


Loving in Another Man's Soul

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chris is hurt, Vin must try the impossible to help him survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving in Another Man's Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is the slash version of the M7 story Walking in Another Man's Soul, originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #5.

**Monday, 10 a.m.**

The attack at the bank broke out like one of the late summer thunderstorms that had been roiling up every afternoon for the past several days – sudden and violent.  The resulting gunfire destroyed the otherwise still, hot summer noontime, pulling some people out from the cooler shadows of their businesses and homes to watch the drama play itself out on the dusty main street in Four Corners.

Chris Larabee, like three of the other regulators charged with keeping the peace in town, was sitting in the saloon when the ring of the first shot pierced the silence of the poker game he was playing with Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah.  His head immediately snapped up and he tossed aside his cards as he stood, reaching automatically for his gun.

The gambler muttered hotly under his breath, but he and the others followed Larabee, each of the three men drawing their own guns as they gathered at the bat-wing doors to get a better look at the unfolding situation.

Across the street, three men bolted from the First National Bank, guns drawn and bandannas pulled up to cover most of their faces.

"Not again," Larabee half-groaned.  Four Corners had endured several attempted bank robberies since he and the others had taken over their peacekeeping duties, but the event had become almost commonplace over the past few months.

"One would think this insufferable heat would keep such malefactors ensconced indoors," Ezra complained, clearly unhappy with the prospect of participating in yet another shootout on the hot, dusty street.

The three outlaws quickly mounted their waiting horses, firing shots at various residents who were either brave enough or stupid enough to show themselves.

"Hurry up!" one of the robbers hollered at the open bank door.

Movement caught Larabee's attention and he spotted Buck crouching behind a stack of barrels in front of Potter's store.

Wilmington flashed the gunslinger a jaunty grin as he touched his finger to the brim of his hat.

Chris shook his head and forced his frown into a wry grin; Buck had a cocky streak, and it sometimes got the man into trouble.

A moment later, four more men rushed out of the bank, one of them carrying a travel case that looked like it was stuffed full of cash.  A single shot, louder than the others, rang out and the man holding the bag fell before he reached his horse.

This time Chris did grin.  Vin had found an vantage point from which he could drop the outlaw absconding with the money.

Larabee watched as Mr. Gibbins, the new banker, scurried out and snatched up the travel case, then dove back into the bank as several shots from the outlaws followed him inside.

"Come on," Chris said, darting from the saloon, firing on the six desperados as he rushed for cover.  Behind him, he heard the others doing the same.

Two of the outlaws who were already mounted broke away, kicking wildly at their horses' flanks.  Another shot from above, and one from JD, who stood outside the sheriff's office, unseated both fleeing men and left them lying in the dusty street.

The remaining four robbers exchanged gunfire with the peacekeepers, but neither group had a clear advantage, even with Vin up on the roof of the hotel.  But the tracker was able to keep the outlaws pinned down well enough that the others could carefully work their way closer and shift the fight to their favor.

So, after a few chaotic minutes, only two of the robbers remained a threat.  Both of them sprinted for their horses, swinging up as they fired wildly, one in Vin's direction – to keep his head down and his gun silent – the other in Buck's direction as Wilmington dashed across an open space to work his way around behind them.

Chris saw the robber draw a bead on Buck and quickly stepped into the open, firing at the outlaw and drawing his attention away from Wilmington before his long-time friend was killed.

One of Larabee's bullets caught the outlaw high in the chest and he jerked back from the impact, his hand yanking his horse's reins up and back violently.  The coffee-brown gelding's head snapped up and around, the horse squealing.  The gelding reared and lost its balance, stumbling and falling sideways into one of the support posts holding up the overhang shading the boardwalk.

"Chris!" the gunslinger heard Tanner shout as the wooden structure crashed down on him before he had a chance to react.  His last thought was to marvel at the honest fear he'd heard in the tracker's voice.

"Chris!" Buck yelled as well, horrified as he saw the wooden structure come crashing down.  He fired at the rider, who was still trying to get his horse back under control, killing him.

"Ya ain't seen the last of the Palmer Gang!" the remaining man hollered as he raced past Buck and JD on his way to freedom.

As the hoofbeats faded, the rest of the peacekeepers emerged from cover, dusty and dripping sweat.

"Chris!" Buck called again, bolting to the pile of wood planks and tossing the ones on the top aside in a desperate bid to uncover his friend.  A moment later Josiah and Ezra were both helping him, and then Vin and JD joined in as well.

Nathan kept an eye on their progress as he sprinted from man to man, checking each of the six outlaws.  All but one was already dead and, watching blood bubble across the last man's lips, the healer knew there was nothing he could do to help him either.

"Nathan!" Vin barked anxiously.

Jackson looked up, nodding when the tracker waved for him to come over.  He looked back down at the dying man, saying, "Best make yo'r peace with God, Mister.  You're gonna see Him real soon now."

The man moaned, closing his eyes, and Nathan hastened to join the others.

"Is he hurt?" JD asked, trying to squeeze past Josiah and Buck for a better look at Larabee.

"Careful, son," Josiah said, grabbing the younger man's coat at the shoulders and pulling him back out of the way, "looks like he's bleedin' pretty bad."

"Bleedin'?  Let me see," Nathan said, tugging Buck out of his way.

Wilmington immediately started to move back, but Vin grabbed his arm, saying, "Let Nathan do his work."

Buck shot the smaller man an angry glare, but he stayed out of the way.  A moment later, after he'd caught the fear and worry in the tracker's blue eyes, he softly muttered, "Sorry, pard."

Vin nodded to let Buck know he accepted the apology, but his gaze remained locked on Nathan while he worked.

"What is Mr. Larabee's condition?" Ezra asked after Nathan had been kneeling over the fallen gunslinger for several long moments.

"Looks like he got hit pretty hard on the head," the healer told them as he finished his initial check for any broken bones, or other obvious injuries – like a bullet hole.  Having found nothing except a lump on the gunslinger's head, Nathan carefully turned Larabee over onto his back.

Half of Chris's face was covered with blood.

"Damn, Nathan, he looks dead!" JD yelped.

"Scalp wounds do tend t' bleed a lot," Nathan said distractedly as he finished his examination.  "Help me get him up t' the clinic.  We'll get him cleaned up there and make sure ain't nothing else wrong with him."

Being the two closest, Buck and Vin picked Chris up at ankles and armpits, carrying him to the second story rooms that doubled as Nathan's home and the town's medical clinic.

"Put him in that chair there," the healer directed the two men, pointing to the one he meant.

Buck and Vin carefully sat the unconscious gunslinger in the indicated seat and held him there – no easy feat, since the gunman's slack body wanted to slide right out.  Chris's head hung limply, his chin almost resting on his chest.

The other three peacekeepers stood off a little ways in order to give Nathan room to work.

"Buck, you make sure Chris stays right there.  Vin, I need you to hold his head up so I can clean that wound and sew it closed.

The two men quickly repositioned themselves to carry out the tasks they had been given.  Tanner carefully cradled Chris's head in his hands, his expression one of pure worry when Larabee didn't even seem to notice what was happening to him.

"JD, get me some mo' fresh water and start some heating on the stove," the healer instructed as he gathered together the various items he needed.

The youngest member of the group immediately hurried off to do as he'd been asked.

"Josiah, hand me some of them cloths," Nathan said, pointing to a folded stack sitting on a shelf above a small table in a corner.

"Whatever you need, brother," the preacher replied, walking over and grabbing several, which he handed over to Nathan.

JD hurried back in with a full bucket of water and went to put some in a pot and place it on the stove.

Nathan poured some of the water into a bowl and washed his hands.  When he was done, he poured more of the warm water into a second bowl, then dipped one of the rags in it, wrung it out, and began carefully wiping the blood off Chris's face.  "Ezra," he called.

The gambler stepped up to receive his assignment.

"Grab another cloth and press it hard against this wound."

Going slightly pale, the well-dressed man did as he had been asked, but he carefully avoided looking at the ugly seeping injury as he did.

Nathan went back to work, cleaning the rest of the blood off Chris's face and neck with careful, gentle strokes.

"This material is, uh, becoming rather sodden, I'm afraid," Ezra said a few minutes later.

"Here," Josiah said, holding out another clean cloth.

The gambler took it and quickly exchanged it for the first, which he gingerly handed back to the big preacher.

With the continuing help of the others, Nathan was able to clean, then stitch Chris's scalp wound closed.  But before he did, he carefully checked the injury, looking and feeling for any signs of a fracture.  Thankfully, he found none.

Once a poultice had been added over the wound, and Chris's head was wrapped with a fresh bandage, Buck and Josiah moved him to the bed, where Nathan had them strip Chris down to his long johns, then covered the gunslinger with a light blanket before turning to face the five worried men.

"That's all I can do," the healer told them.  "Didn't find a fracture, so he should wake up soon, but when he does, he's gonna feel like his head's been cleaved like cordwood."

"But he'll be fine, right?" Buck asked Jackson, his expression still worried and intense.

Nathan nodded.  "Don't see why not.  No fracture, just a good-sized bump on his head."  _Course head wounds can be tricky. . ._ The healer watched all five men visibly relax and offered them a small, reassuring smile, hoping he had told them the truth.  "Guess y'all better get that mess down there on the street cleaned up."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **Monday, 7 p.m.**

It was late evening before Buck returned to the clinic.  Glancing over to where Chris still lay, he wasn't surprised to find Vin already sitting in a chair that had been pulled up next to the injured man's bedside.  He watched the tracker dip a cloth into a bowl of water, wring it out, then fold and lay it on Chris's forehead.  When he reached the foot of the bed, he asked, "He all right?"

Vin nodded.  "Nathan thinks so.  Just runnin' a little fever is all."  He met the man's gaze for a moment, then added, "Nate's gettin' somethin' t' eat," as an invitation for Wilmington to sit and talk, if he felt like it.

Buck nodded and grabbed the second chair in the room, carrying it over so he could sit down on the other side of the bed, but across from Vin.  He sighed heavily as he looked down at Chris.  "Damn, stud, what the hell were you thinkin' out there?"  He shook his head, then met Vin's gaze and added, "The damned fool stepped right out into the open t' save my life."

"He'll be fine," Vin assured him.

Buck smiled and nodded, somewhat comforted by the assurance he heard in the sharpshooter's voice, and saw in his eyes.  "Yeah, I know.  He's too damn stubborn t' let this slow 'im down for very long. . ."  He trailed off, trying to sort out the tangle of emotions that was churning through his guts.  "He was just gettin' past that whole mess with Fowler. . ."

Vin watched Buck's expression as he ventured, "Chris seemed t' take that purty hard."

The big man nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.  "Might've been his one chance to find out who killed his wife and son, an' why.  Mine, too.  Can't blame him for takin' it hard when it slipped away, especially like it did."

"Reckon not," Vin agreed, dipping his head as he thought again about the depths that kind of loss would touch.  "Never seen a man willin' t' die like Fowler did.  Helluva way t' go."

Buck looked up, his blue eyes flashing angrily, "Bastard did it just t' cause him more pain," he snapped, nodding at Chris.  "Pure cruelty, that's all it was, the sonuvabitch.  Losin' his family like that damned near killed Chris three years ago    . . . never thought those wounds would get torn open like that again.  Hoped they wouldn't, anyway . . . wasn't sure he'd survive it."

"Larabee's one 'a the strongest men I ever met," Vin offered.

Buck nodded his agreement with the statement, but his expression was still worried.  "Sarah and Adam . . . well, they were his weakness, I guess you'd say.  Still are, I think.  I know he still mourns for 'em . . . Hell, guess he always will."

Vin considered that for a moment, then said softly, "Man c'n lose his soul 'n' still be alive, just ain't much of a life."

Wilmington looked up, meeting the tracker's gaze again.  "That's sure as hell the truth, Vin.  But he's buildin' a new life here; I see it every day.  Thought things were changin' – for the better, too."  He looked down at Chris again.  "This just don't seem right is all."

Vin sat, waiting in the silence that fell between them for Buck to get around to telling him what was really on his mind.  A few minutes later, the ladies' man did, after a long, heavy sigh.

"Ever since his family was killed . . . Chris has been lookin' for an excuse t' live, and one to die – in equal measures," Wilmington said softly, staring at his long-time friend as he spoke.  "I don't appreciate bein' made one of those excuses today."

"Ya think he wanted t' die when he stepped out?"

"Don't rightly know," Buck admitted, chin coming up so his eyes met Tanner's, "and that's what scares the hell outta me."

          Vin looked down at Larabee and frowned.  Had Chris wanted to die?  He hoped not; he wasn't ready to go back to living alone, wasn't sure he'd ever be able to face that again now.  But he could understand why the blond might want to join his wife and son in whatever afterlife waited for him.  A chill ran down his spine and he looked down at Larabee.  _Not yet, Chris_ , he thought.  _Ain't yer time yet_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Chris walked through a world that seemed both hauntingly familiar and utterly foreign.  The hills, the trees, the way the clouds broke over the jagged hills in the near distance, it all reminded him of someplace he'd seen once, but he couldn't remember where, or when.  A chill snaked down his back, accompanied by a sense of foreboding.

Where was he?  And why was he out here?  He didn't think he was supposed to be here.

He glanced back over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Vin or one of the other peacekeepers close by, but he was alone.

Pony shifted under him and Chris tightened his grip on the reins, then frowned.  Hadn't he just been walking?

But why would he be walking out here in the middle of nowhere?

He shook his head and wondered if he was hurt.  Looking down at himself, he couldn't find any signs of obvious injury, and he didn't feel any pain, just a dull ache in his head.

When he looked up again he spotted a trail turning off the road he was traveling down.  He knew he recognized it, but couldn't place it.  Frustrated, he reined Pony over and clucked, the black gelding picking up his pace.

A few minutes later, although he wasn't sure it wasn't really just a few moments, he rounded a hill and found himself looking down at his old homestead.  The house was still standing, as were the barn, corral, and windmill.  Several horses milled behind the corral fence, some eating, others just enjoying the cool, sunny day.

But it was what he saw off to the side of the house that took his breath away: Sarah.  She was standing with her back to him, hanging laundry, but he knew with absolute certainty that it was her.  Long, almost-curly dark-auburn hair hung down almost to her hips, the sunlight making it shine whenever she moved.

He stepped shakily from Pony's back, and started toward her, but an excited squeal halted him.

"Papa!"

He turned just in time to scoop Adam up into his arms, the boy having launched himself into the air with a wild leap.  The child's arms immediately encircled Chris's neck and hugged him tightly.  "Papa!  You're home!"

Sarah turned, a smile blooming on her face like a sunrise.  She picked up her skirts and hurried over to her husband.

Chris set Adam back down and paused a moment, losing himself in the deep green of the woman's eyes.  She was just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe more so.  Then, with a whoop of joy, he scooped her into his arms and spun her around.  She tilted her head back and laughed, the sound pure music to his ears.

He kissed her, his eyes closing as the sweetness of her lips filled his soul like it was water, and he a thirsty man.  When he finally put her down it was only because Adam was tugging persistently on his pant leg.

"Can we go fishin', Papa?" the boy asked, his tone hopeful, his green eyes round with excitement.

"Not today, sweetheart," Sarah told him, smoothing down his unruly hair.  "Your papa just got home.  He needs to eat supper and a get good night's sleep.  Maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" the boy nearly wailed.  "That's forever!"

Chris smiled and ruffled Adam's hair, undoing all Sarah's work.  "It'll be here before you know it," he told the child.  "Now, why don't you go finish your chores before supper and we'll plan that fishing trip."

Adam pouted for a moment, but then he flung his arms around Chris's thighs and gave him another hug.  "I'm glad you're home, Papa," he said, then stepped back, turned, and ran off toward the barn as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Sarah looked up at him and smiled.  "He's missed you so much."

"I've– I've missed him, too," Chris just managed to say, a hard lump forming in his throat.  Although he wasn't sure why, the warm homecoming shook him to the core, leaving him feeling weak and lightheaded.  It was wrong, and he knew it, but at the same time it was everything he wanted.

She kissed his cheek and said, "Go on inside and get cleaned up.  I'll finish hanging my wash, then come in and make you something to eat."

Chris nodded and pulled her into his arms again, this time for a shorter kiss that was much more desperate.

She pushed him back a little and smiled up at him.  "Go on with ya."

He reluctantly let her go and walked over to the house.  He paused on the porch, watching her for a moment.  In the distance he thought he heard Buck's voice and guessed the man was helping Adam with whatever the boy was doing.  He grinned.  Sometimes he wasn't sure which of them was older.

Then, as he turned to step inside the small home he had built, he thought he heard Vin's voice as well.  He turned back, a smile on his face to greet the man, but it immediately faded when he saw Sarah standing alone at the clothesline.  He'd met Vin after–

He shook his head, unwilling to think about it.  He stepped into the house, closing the door behind him, but he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, very, very wrong.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Tuesday, 7 a.m.**

The expression on Nathan's face when he walked into the saloon to join the others for breakfast the following morning cast an immediate pall on the gathering.  Vin took one look at the healer and set his fork down, his face going slightly grey.

"What's wrong?" JD dared to ask first.

Jackson sat down and began to fill his plate from the waiting bowls of food as he said, "Chris is still sleepin'."

"Isn't that common for a head injury?" Ezra asked, but his brow furrowed with worry.

"Sometimes," the healer admitted somewhat reluctantly, "but I tried t' rouse him and I couldn't do it."

Buck's expression immediately turned apprehensive.  "You couldn't wake him up?  What does that mean, Nate?"

Nathan met Wilmington's worried gaze.  "I shook him, called his name, but he just didn't wake up.  Might be he's got a concussion."  He glanced around the table at the men sitting there, all of whom were waiting for him to continue.  He dropped back against his chair and sighed heavily.  "Look, I ain't no doctor.  Seems to me he should wake up now, but it ain't happened."

"What can we do?" Buck asked the healer.

Nathan considered the question for a few moments, then said, "If there was a doctor hereabouts, I'd say we ought t' fetch him."

"But there are no physicians.  At least, none who aren't several days ride away," Ezra said nervously.

"You think I don't know that?" Nathan snapped at the gambler.

"Easy, brothers," Josiah interrupted, his voice pitched soft and low so it was soothing to the collection of short tempers seated around the table.  "We're all worried about Chris, and I doubt any of us got much sleep last night."

Nathan nodded, then glanced at Ezra, saying, "Didn't mean–"

"Your apology is accepted, Mr. Jackson," Ezra interrupted quietly.

The healer offered the man a grateful smile, then turned back to the others saying, "Like I told ya, I done all I can, the rest is up t' Chris."

"He's strong," Vin said for everyone, but he met and held Buck's gaze.  "He'll come 'round in his own time."  At least he hoped the man would.  But a knowing deep in his gut told him it wasn't going to be that easy.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Tuesday, 3 p.m.**

Thirty hours after he'd been hurt, Chris still lay in a sleep so deep no one could wake him, and everyone, especially Vin, was getting more worried and more scared.

The tracker sat that the blond's bedside, a frown on his face.  He could feel Chris slipping farther and farther away, and there was nothing he could think of to stop it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **Tuesday, 8 p.m.**

Josiah found the tracker still sitting at the injured man's bedside, a seat Vin had occupied for almost every hour Larabee had been hurt.  He took a seat in the second chair, positioned on the other side of the bed and asked, "Any change?"

"Nope."

Josiah leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and sighing heavily.  After a few minutes passed in silence, he leaned forward and said, "Saw something like this once . . . while I was studying with a Cherokee holy man."

Vin looked up, meeting the older man's gaze and holding it, blue eyes plainly pleading for hope from whatever source the defrocked priest could provide.  He didn't speak, but the expression was enough to prompt Sanchez to continue, even though he wasn't sure he could.  He didn't want to raise Vin's hopes.

"It happened to a young warrior who'd lost his family to the fever.  Had a wife, a son, and a baby girl, as I recall.  He was out on a hunt with some of the other men when they died, so he didn't hear about it until he got back to the village.  He felt their loss strong in his heart.  So strong, in fact, he didn't take another wife, as was the custom of his people.

"A few years after their deaths, he was thrown from his horse and hit his head – rather like Chris here."

"And they couldn't wake 'im up?" Vin guessed, wondering where Josiah's story was heading.

"Nope, and they tried everything they could think of.  The shaman said it was because the warrior had found his family again."

"Ya mean he died?" Tanner asked, his raspy voice going so tight it nearly squeaked.

"No," Josiah replied, shaking his head, "the shaman meant he'd found them in his dreams and he didn't want to lose them a second time, so he simply refused to wake up."

"Ya think that's why Chris won't come 'round?"

The former preacher shrugged.  "Might be.  No way to know for sure."

Vin leaned forward, gaze on Sanchez intense.  "What'd the Cherokee do 'bout it?"

Josiah sighed and leaned forward more, resting his elbows on his knees and holding Vin's gaze as he said, "That's where this story gets a mite peculiar.  You see, this warrior had himself a brother – the only blood family he had left – and they were very close.  Well, the shaman, he gave the brother something that put him into a trance.  Then, all the holy men gathered together and sang their healing songs while the brother went to bring the warrior back."

Vin's brow furrowed.  "How he'd do that?"

Josiah shrugged again.  "Don't rightly know, but when he came out of the trance, he said he'd found the warrior living with his dead family, but that he'd carried him back to the world of the living."

The tracker shook his head.  "Don't make no sense, J'siah.  The warrior was lyin' right there, an' his family was dead."

The big man grinned.  "When I asked my teacher about it afterwards, he said the man had walked in his brother's soul and, because of that, he had found the warrior in a dream and was able to lead him back to the land of the living.  The warrior woke up, returned to his life – even decided to take another wife."

Vin thought about that for a moment, then asked, "Think ya could do that fer Chris?"

Josiah's eyes widened and he sat back.  "Me?"  He shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips.  "No, not me, Vin.  It needs to be someone closer to his heart."

"Buck," Vin said immediately and started to stand.

"You honestly see Buck believin' a word of that story?" Josiah asked him.

"No," Vin admitted, his shoulders slumping as he dropped back onto his chair.

"But you did," Josiah said softly.

"Lived with–"  The tracker stopped and looked up.  "Me?"

"I think you could do it, Vin.  If anyone could, it's you."

"J'siah, I ain't no shaman, an' I sure as hell ain't no holy man.  Maybe the Seminole–"

"Lost their holy man a few months past," the former preacher said sadly.  "Nathan told me about it.  Actually, I was thinkin' Ko-je might be willing to help if he or the one of the other shamans on the reservation know a ceremony like what I saw.  But that's another good reason why it can't be Buck."

Vin nodded, remembering all too clearly the ill feelings Buck had carried for Chanu and his people, even if the ladies' man had gotten past a lot of them when they discovered who had really killed Claire Mosley.  Still, the wound was fresh and he couldn't see Ko-je and his people embracing the ladies' man this soon.  "Buck ain't gonna like it none."

"Nathan's said he can't do any more for Chris.  Just seems to me like this might be something similar to what I saw."

"An' if we do nothin', he'll die," Vin added, his expression turning hard.  There was no way he was going to let that happen, not if there was _anything_ left to be tried.  He just couldn't lose the man.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  **Wednesday, 8 a.m.**

"You've both gone plum loco!" Buck stormed at Vin and Josiah as he paced in the saloon the following morning.  "He needs a _doctor_ , not some– some–"  Seeing the angry flash in Vin's blue eyes, he stopped himself before he said something he knew he would regret.  He looked to JD, Ezra, and Nathan, asking, "What do you boys think?"

"Ain't nothin' mo' I can do," Nathan replied.  "Might as well let 'em try.  Indians got their own ways of healin', and it works for 'em – might just work for Chris, too."

JD nodded.  "I don't know anything about the Indians, or their medicines, but I trust Josiah and Vin," he told Buck.  "Couldn't hurt to let 'em try."

"I concur," Ezra added quietly.

Buck sighed heavily, then turned back to Josiah and Vin.  "All right," he conceded, "but I'm goin' with ya."

"I don't think that would be a good idea, brother," Josiah said.  "You didn't exactly get along with Ko-je and his sons and we're going to need the goodwill of those people, and you're a little . . . prickly, right now.  No offense."

Buck started to argue, but he knew the older man was right.  He didn't feel comfortable out on the Jicarilla reservation, never had.  "I can't just wait–"

"Someone's gotta stay and look after the town," JD said quickly.  "Ya heard that last man, Buck, the rest of the Palmer Gang might come back to even the score."

Wilmington glanced from Vin and Josiah to JD, then back again.  "All right, I'll stay, but if you're not back in a few days–"

"Be back soon as Chris wakes up an' he's ready t' travel," Vin interrupted.

The two men stood, their gazes locked, both half-angry and all-scared.  Buck looked away first, saying, "Ya just see to it that's what happens."

Vin nodded.  "Do all I c'n, Bucklin, ya got m' word on it."

Buck nodded, knowing that the tracker's feelings for Larabee ran deep.  "That's all I need."

Vin dipped his head, humbled by the big man's trust and faith in him.  He just prayed that it worked; he wasn't ready to lose Chris yet, not before he knew for sure if Larabee could return the feelings he had for the gunman.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Wednesday 10 a.m.**

It took almost an hour to prepare a rented wagon to carry the injured man, but once that was done, Josiah and Buck carried Chris down and laid him in the bed that had been well padded with straw covered by blankets, then hitched up the mule team.

When the two peacekeepers were ready to leave, Nathan reined his horse up alongside the mules.  "I'm goin' with you," he told them.  "Least as far as the reservation, just in case yo' need me."

Vin nodded.  "Obliged."

Buck, Ezra, and JD had stood on the boardwalk outside the saloon, watching the preparations.  Wilmington was still upset, and not at all happy about what they were planning to do, but he was also desperate enough to try anything to help his friend.  "You take it real careful there, Josiah," he called to the man when he climbed up to drive the wagon.

"Slow and easy, brother," the former preacher assured him.

Vin rolled onto Peso's back, then urged the gelding over next to the boardwalk where he looked down at Buck and promised, "We'll do everythin' we c'n."

"I know you will," Buck replied, proffering his hand.

Vin leaned over and gripped it, Indian style.  He met the ladies' man's eyes and held his gaze for a long moment, then released him, saying quietly, "No matter what happens, this ain't yer fault, Bucklin."

"Feels like it is," the ladies' man replied, his voice pitched for the tracker alone.

"Godspeed, gentlemen," Ezra called as they headed out.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Chris drove the wagon along a dusty road, the conveyance bumping and rattling.  Sarah sat beside him, her arm around his back, her head leaning against his shoulder.

"It's been too long since we all went on a picnic," she said.

Chris smiled down at her.  "Well, today's the day for it."

In the back of the wagon he could hear Adam and Josiah talking, but as soon as he recognized the older man's voice, he knew something was wrong again.  He wanted to glance over his shoulder and look, but he was too afraid to bring himself to do it.

Shifting the reins to one hand, he slipped his arm around his wife and pulled her closer as they continued along.  Glancing out at the landscape, he forced a smile and tried to ignore the buzz of conversation going on behind them, but he couldn't help listening for Vin's voice.  It made him almost angry, but he couldn't stop himself and it made him feel a little like he was being unfaithful to Sarah.

He looked down at her and she smiled up at him, understanding in her eyes.  "He cares about you," she said softly.

Chris nodded and looked back out at the landscape, knowing he cared about Tanner as well.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Wednesday 2 p.m.**

Josiah and Ko-je returned after a long walk in the desert, Vin and Nathan both sitting in the shade of the wagon, waiting for their arrival.  Chris still lay inside the bed, sleeping, a sheen of sweat on his skin from the afternoon heat.

As they drew closer, Josiah left the old chief's side and walked over to join the other two peacekeepers.

"What'd he say?" Vin asked the preacher.

"His people don't have a ceremony like the one I saw, but he's going to talk to the old shaman; maybe they'll be able to find a way to help us."

"How long?" Nathan questioned, worried now.

Josiah shrugged.  "As long as it takes."

"Best we get Chris under a lean-to, then, where it won't be so hot," the healer said.  "Brought some cloths we can use to help keep him cool, too."

Vin stood, then helped Nathan up and the three men got to work.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Chris and Sarah sat in the shade of a large tree.  Nearby, a small creek ran past them, the breeze blowing over the surface of the water providing a little respite from the stifling afternoon heat.

The gunslinger was lying on the ground, his head resting in his wife's lap.  She smiled down at him, her fingers stroking through his hair.

"What're you thinkin'?" she asked, the faintest trace of an Irish accent, a gift from her mother, making the words sound sweet to his ears.

"Nothin'," he lied.

Her smile turned a little coy and she leaned over him, her lips brushing his forehead.  "I love you," she whispered.

"Mmm," he replied, closing his eyes.  "I love you, too.  Always have, from the first time I saw you. . ."  He paused, listening to Adam's laughter and wondering what the boy was doing.  He opened his eyes and sat up.  "Where's Adam?"

"Playing down by the creek," Sarah replied a little nervously.  "Don't worry, he's fine."

Chris cocked his head to one side, other voices filtering through the brush that grew along the water . . . Vin's . . . Nathan's . . . Josiah's.

He shivered and quickly looked at Sarah, who smiled at him, her expression adoring.  She reached out and cupped his cheek, her hand cool against his warm skin, and he leaned in to kiss her, even as he tried to ignore the voices that continued to haunt his thoughts.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Wednesday, 8 p.m.**

It was several hours later, the sun having set below the western horizon, when the old chief returned.

"What news, Ko-je?" Josiah asked him.

"It is a good thing the spirits told me to trust you," he replied with a small smile.  "Nachise will pray on your request tonight.  If the spirits show him how to do this ritual you describe, he will be ready to begin at sunrise."

"And if the spirits don't show 'im?" Vin asked quietly, his gaze on the dancing flames of the small fire they had built to chase away the coolness of the nighttime air.

Ko-je shook his head sadly.  "Then we cannot help you."  He turned and walked away.

A moment later an old woman arrived and handed Josiah and Nathan a bowl of stew, which they accepted with nods of thanks.  She turned and started back to her teepee.

"Ma'am, what about Vin?" Nathan called after the woman, but she didn't look back at them.

The tracker shook his head.  "Ain't gonna be nothin' fer me.  They want me t' fast, in case they c'n do the ceremony."

Nathan nodded his understanding, he and Josiah eating their suppers in silence.  When they were done, the two men settled in for the night, Vin staying where he was, sitting next to the small fire within easy reach of Chris.

When they two peacekeepers were sleeping, Vin reached out and cupped the side of Chris's face.  "Reckon ya might be able t' hear me," he said softly.  "Don't know where ya are, Chris, but I want ya t' know 'm gonna try an' find ya.  Got some feelings fer ya I want t' share, but ya gotta come back.  Ya hear me?  Ya gotta come home."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Thursday, 3 a.m.**

Vin sat, staring into the dying flames of their small fire.  In a few hours the sun would rise and Chris's fate would be sealed.  A part of him understood the gunslinger's desire to return to his family.  There had been many nights the tracker had wished he could have another day with his mother, whose face was now only a vague, hazy memory in his mind, or another day with his Kiowa family, which had been killed by the Army.  But another part of him was confused by Larabee's lack of fight.  Didn't Chris know he'd die if he didn't wake up?

Tanner had never seen Chris Larabee run away from anything, except maybe his pain, which the gunslinger occasionally tried to drown in a whiskey bottle.  But he had to believe Larabee wanted to come back, that, somewhere deep inside, he knew how Tanner felt about him and maybe even returned some of those feelings – at least a little.

The tracker jumped when a hand closed on his shoulder and he looked up at the old man who had come up silently behind him.  He met the shaman's probing gaze and held it.

After a long moment, the old man nodded.  Then, with a grunt, Nachise turned and started for the sweat lodge.

"Will ya do it?" Vin called after him.

The man stopped and turned to look at Vin.  He spoke in his own tongue, but the sharpshooter knew what the word meant: "Yes."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Thursday, 6 a.m.**

Ko-je sat next to Nachise, waiting as the sun slowly rose and broke free of the horizon.  Josiah and Nathan flanked Vin, who sat across from the two old men, waiting patiently.  Several other men filled the rest of the space in the sweat lodge.  Once the sun had risen, the east-facing opening was closed and the sweat began.

They were all naked, and sweat quickly began to roll off their skin as the enclosed space grew hotter and hotter.  One of the men chanted softly, a second beat a small drum, and yet another regularly added water and herbs to the hot rocks in the center of the small, enclosed space at regular intervals, causing steam to curl up and filling the air with the pungent aroma of sage and other herbs.

Vin wasn't sure how long they sat there like that, but he was feeling decidedly lightheaded when they all finally rose and stumbled from the enclosure.  The oldest of the men lead them directly to a small pond, fed by a spring, and waded into the cool water.  The others waited their turns, dipping into the water to cleanse themselves.  That done, most of the men, including Nathan and Josiah, began to dress, but Vin was immediately led off to one of the teepees, only Ko-je and Nachise accompanying him.

They stopped just outside the open flap, and Vin was handed a breechclout, which he put on, his hands shaking slightly.  He was then led inside.

Chris was lying on a stack of blankets, still unconscious.  Someone had removed his clothes as well, although he too wore a breechclout like Tanner.

Ko-je sat down on Larabee's right and motioned for Vin to sit at Chris's head.  Nachise and another man Vin hadn't seen before took up their positions – the shaman on the gunslinger's left, the stranger at Larabee's feet.

Nachise handed Vin a small bowl half-full of a milky white liquid and Ko-je instructed, "Drink."

Vin raised the bowl to his lips and sniffed first, but didn't recognize the odd odor.  He took a sip and immediately made a face as he forced himself to swallow the bitter-tasting concoction.  "This is worse 'n horse piss," he told Ko-je.

The old chief nodded, a slight smile on his lips.  "Drink," he repeated.

Vin took a deep breath, held it, and swallowed the rest of the liquid in a single gulp.  He shuddered violently as he handed the empty bowl back to the shaman, Nachise chortling softly at the tracker's reaction.

The old shaman set the empty vessel aside, then picked up a tied bundle of fresh sage, hawk feathers, and several fragments of deer antler and animal bones that had each been decorated with beads, fur, and feathers.  He began to chant, softly at first, his voice growing steadily louder as he continued.

Vin swallowed convulsively, his vision blurring slightly as he sat, listening to the man's song.  He felt the sweat break out on his upper lip, and then along his hairline, but a slight chill shook his body and, a few moments later, his teeth began to chatter.  It was getting harder and harder to breathe, he noted absently, but the shaman's song quickly carried his concerns away before he could act upon them.

After a few minutes, or several hours, Vin couldn't be sure which, his body began to feel light and the tracker briefly wondered if he might not just float up off the ground and blow away on a breeze.  He wanted to grab hold of something, to make sure he stayed safely on the ground, but there was nothing available except Larabee.

He reached for the blond, but could no longer see how far his hands were from the man.

Ko-je reached over, took Vin's wrists and tugged, forcing Tanner to lean over Larabee.  The old man positioned the tracker's hands – one on Chris's forehead, the other on the gunslinger's chest, just over his heart.

Nachise stopped chanting and the stranger seated at Larabee's feet picked up the song.  The shaman spoke quietly to Ko-je, who translated the words into English for Vin.  "Your friend is lost, but you know him well.  You know what is in his heart, and in his thoughts.  The spirits will guide you to him, if you let them.  Give yourself to the spirits and they will take you."

Having to lean over like he was, Vin felt slightly sick to his stomach, but he held the position Ko-je had placed him in and tried to focus his thoughts, which seemed to slip and slide out of his grasp like a wriggling fish.  Another chill jolted his body and he closed his eyes, swallowing several times to keep from being sick to his stomach.

In the semidarkness behind his closed eyelids, the chanting grew louder and louder until it assailed his ears, causing him to flinch.  He could feel the sweat pouring off his body like a heavy rain and wished he was back in the cool water of the spring, but that was impossible.  He couldn't walk back outside now to save his own life.

Vin forced his eyes open, but everything was out of focus and spinning wildly.  He squeezed them closed again, tightly this time.  His muscles began to twitch and his breath caught in his chest.  Sounds, sights, smells, and tactile sensations swirled together in his mind, chasing away all of his thoughts.

_What's happenin'?  Damn . . . Chris?_

He felt himself begin to fall, but hands caught him and carefully laid him down.  Someone made sure one of his hands was resting on Larabee's shoulder.

 _Chris?_ Vin called, reaching out with his mind for the one man he trusted above all others, wishing the gunslinger was there to anchor him through the maelstrom of sensory stimulation that was overwhelming his senses.

Then the feel of Larabee's sweat-damp skin under his palm came into sharp focus in his battered mind and he tried to breathe deeply as he reveled in the sensation of his skin touching Chris's.  He wanted to move his hand, feel more of the man's bare chest, but he didn't know how make that happen.

_Chris, I don't know what t' do . . . ya gotta meet me halfway. . ._

Ko-je was talking to him, but Vin could no longer make out the man's words, which were disjointed sounds, like insects buzzing around his ears.

 _Chris?_ he called again, fear beginning to make his heart race even faster than it already was.  _'M in trouble, Chris, I need ya . . . where are ya, Cowboy?_

And then Vin was falling again, tumbling wildly for what seemed to be forever, and this time there were no hands to catch him. . . .

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin gasped, his body jerking.  He started to cry out, but stopped himself.  He hadn't fallen after all.  In fact, he was standing on his own two feet, right in the middle of a well-tended yard.  He glanced around, finding a small ranch house and other structures.

How had be gotten here?  He'd been falling, he was sure of it.  But here he was, whole, dressed in his clothes . . . hadn't he been naked?

He shook his head.  It made no sense.

He glanced over at the small house again . . . barn . . . corral, where several handsome horses stood, undisturbed by his sudden and unusual arrival.

 _Ain't never been here b'fore_ , he thought, frowning, but the place felt familiar, like he should recognize it.

Hearing laughter coming from inside the house, he walked over to the porch, hesitating a moment before he stepped up onto it.  Some part of him didn't want to know who lived here, but he knew he had to find out, although why that was the case, he couldn't say.

He crossed to the door, but didn't knock.  Instead, he called out hesitantly, "Chris?  Ya here, pard?"

A moment later the door opened and Chris Larabee stepped out onto the porch to join the tracker.  "Vin?" he asked, smiling a warm welcome.  "What're you doin' here?"

"I's lookin' fer ya," Tanner replied, but his voice sounded far away to his own ears.  His gaze swept over the man, dressed in tan pants and a pale red shirt, a far cry from the black he was used to seeing the blond in.

"You want to come inside?" Larabee asked him, gesturing to the door.  "Sarah's making supper."

Vin shook his head, frowning.  _Sarah?_   And then he remembered: the accident, Josiah's story, their ride out to the reservation with Chris in the wagon.  "Chris, we need t' talk."

Larabee's smile faded, but he replied, "Sure, but–"

Sarah stepped out to join them, interrupting Chris.  She smiled at Vin, then looked to her husband, saying, "Can you go find Adam?  Supper's almost ready and he needs to wash up."

"Sure, I'll go get him," Chris told her with an indulgent smile, then watched her as Sarah stepped back into the house and closed the door behind her.  He turned to Vin his expression more serious, saying, "Come on, we can talk away from the house."

The tracker followed Larabee across the yard to the barn where they found Adam playing on a swing that had been tied to the stout branch of a large tree growing next to the building.  The boy waved to his father as they approached, then jumped from the wooden seat and ran to Chris, who scooped him up into his arms.

"He's a fine lookin' boy," Vin said, realizing just what the gunslinger had lost for the first time – beautiful loving wife, happy little boy . . . no wonder he didn't want to come back.  And what could he offer in return?  Life in Four Corners . . . friendship     . . . himself?  He couldn't image that any of it would come close to replacing what Chris had lost, and found again here.

Larabee beamed with pride.  "Adam, this is my good friend, Vin Tanner."

"Howdy, Vin!" the boy greeted him.

"Adam," the tracker replied, touching his finger to the brim of his hat.

Chris set the boy back down and said, "Time for you to go get washed up, son.  Your mother's got supper almost ready."

"Okay, Papa!"  Adam set out at a run, heading straight for the house.

The two men stood under the tree, watching the boy until he disappeared inside the house.  Then Chris turned to his friend and asked, "Now, tell me why you're here."

Vin sighed softly.  "J'siah thought I could bring ya back."

"Bring me back?" Chris asked, looking both confused and wary.

Vin stood for a moment, not sure how to explain it all to the man.  He decided a straight-forward approach would be best.  "Chris, ya know this ain't real, don't ya?"

The gunslinger's eyes narrowed slightly.  "What're you sayin', Vin."

"All 'a this–"  He waved his hand at the homestead.  "It ain't real," the tracker stated bluntly.  "Sarah an' Adam are dead.  They died in a fire 'bout three years ago."

Chris snorted softly and tried to laugh, but he couldn't quite pull it off.  The fear that exploded in his chest made it impossible.  "They're–"

"Dead," Vin repeated softly.  He hated hurting his friend, but he didn't know another way.  "Ya got hurt an' I guess ya figured bein' here with yer family's better 'n livin' in Four Corners without 'em.  Problem is, yer dyin', so I come t' take ya back."

Chris's gaze flickered from the house to Vin and back again.  He knew the tracker was telling him the truth, but he didn't want to believe him.  He _couldn't_ believe him.  He was home.  Sarah and Adam were there, loving, real, just like he remembered them.

"I think you'd better leave," Larabee said softly but the words were full of deadly intent.

"Told ya, I come t' take ya back with me," Vin said stubbornly.

Chris shook his head.  "I'm stayin' right here."

"Damn it, Chris, ya loved 'em an' ya miss 'em, I understand that, but d' ya really think they'd want ya t' die t' be with 'em?"

Larabee glowered at the tracker.  "That's my family!" he snarled, pointing back at the house.

"They're gone, Chris.  That house burned t' the ground an' took the two 'a 'em right along with it."

"Like hell!" he bellowed, stepping forward and taking a swing at Vin, who ducked and scrambled back out of the way.

"Ya' know 'm tellin' ya the truth," Vin rapped out, hurt and worry closing his throat halfway.  "I'd never lie t' ya, Chris.  Ya know that."

"If this isn't real, then how the hell did _you_ get here?" Chris demanded angrily.

That brought Vin up short.  "Don't rightly know," he admitted.  "We took ya t' the reservation.  Shaman an' his spirits musta done it."

Chris frowned, the faint sounds of chanting reaching them on a warm breeze.  He shook his head, refusing to listen.  "This is my home, Vin, and that's my family.  This is where I belong."

"Used t' be," Vin agreed with a nod, "but it's all gone now, pard – three years gone."

Chris shook his head stubbornly.  "No."

Remembering Josiah's story, and how the Cherokee brother had said he'd "carried" the warrior back, Vin decided he might as well give that a try since it was clear Chris wasn't going to listen to reason.  He lunged forward, tackling Chris around the waist and forcing him back up against the tree trunk.  "You're comin' with me, Lar'bee."

"Like hell I am," Chris hissed, bringing his locked hands down hard between the tracker's shoulder blades and jerking his knee up into the man's mid-section at the same time.

Vin grunted painfully as he fell to his knees, an explosion of stars erupting in front of his eyes as he fought to refill his suddenly empty lungs.  That had _hurt_.  How could it hurt if it wasn't real?  He looked up at Chris, confused.

The ensuing attack was both swift and brutal.

Chris set upon the smaller man, raining blows down on him until Vin lay, curled up in a tight ball on the ground, arms held tightly over his head as he tried to protect himself from the onslaught of fists and feet.

Larabee didn't pull a single punch or kick, years of frustration and pain finally finding release in the physical attack.  And through it all Tanner never once uttered a single sound, or struck back a single time.

Minutes, hours, an eternity later – neither man knew which – the gunslinger finally stopped, standing over the beaten man, panting hard to catch his breath.  Something in his mind told him if he'd really done this to a man, he'd be dead – long dead.  But Tanner wasn't dead.  Hurt, yes, but he was still breathing.  "Go!  Now!" he snapped angrily.

When Tanner didn't move, he kicked him viciously, twice.  " _Now!  Go!_ "

Vin whimpered softly and slowly uncurled.  His face was bloody and bruised.

"Get out of here," Larabee hissed.  "Or so help me, I'll shoot you where you lay."

Vin rolled over, retching into the dirt, then climbed unsteadily to his feet, hugging his midsection with his arms.  He hurt all over, a deep, bone searing agony that left him weak and sick.  "Listen t' me, Chris," he pleaded, gaze locked on Larabee's.  "Ya can stay here an' die if'n ya want, or ya c'n come back an' have me an' live.  I just come t' give ya the choice.  It's up t' ya t' choose now."

The tracker took a couple of shuffling steps away, then stopped and added, "Jist remember, ya got folks who care 'bout ya back in Four Corners.  Friends, like me.  Some 'a us even love ya; folks who ain't already dead."  And with that, Tanner turned away from Chris and started stumbling, adding as loudly as he could, "Guess we ain't enough fer ya.  But the way I see it, men who'll watch yer back an' take a bullet fer ya are a damn sight better company 'n a couple 'a ghosts!"

He'd failed.  Larabee wasn't going to come with him; he was going to stay and die.  Tears streamed down Vin's face, but he kept walking, his entire body a knot of molten agony.  He silently prayed Chris would follow him, but he didn't stop or look back until he felt a hand grab his shoulder, halting him.  Turning, he met Larabee's pain-filled gaze.  His knees gave out and the tracker dropped to his knees, moaning as shards of pain sliced though him.

"I love– . . . I loved 'em, Vin.  I loved 'em so damned much."  Chris gulped, trying desperately to control his emotions, but it was a battle he was doomed to lose.  "The pain– When they– . . . I thought I was gonna die too, just from missin' 'em.   I miss 'em so much. . ."

Vin ground his teeth together and forced himself to stand.  He swayed on his feet, but managed to get one arm to move so he could reach out, resting his hand on Chris's shoulder, squeezing gently.  He could feel Larabee's sweat-slicked skin and realized with a start that he was actually feeling the Chris Larabee's shoulder who lay in the teepee back on the reservation.

Chris's chin dropped as he started to sob.  "I can't leave 'em again, Vin, I just can't.  I can't lose 'em again.  Not again . . . not again . . . I can't. . . ."

Vin stepped closer, pulling the man into a gentle hug.  "Ya ain't leavin' 'em, Chris.  This ain't real," he repeated softly.  "C'mon back with me, Chris . . . please.  They'll still be waitin' fer ya when it's yer time, but this ain't it . . . I need ya, Cowboy.  I need ya t' come back with me.  Got things I want t' tell ya, an' I cain't if'n ya stay here and die on me."

Larabee took a step back and stared at the tracker.  Chris was panting for breath, his eyes full of unshed tears he couldn't allow to escape.  If it did, the pain would consume him all over again and he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it a second time.  It would kill him for sure, or condemn him to the living death he had barely escaped the last time.

Vin saw the door to the house open, Sarah and Adam stepping out onto the porch.  She was holding the boy in her arms.  The tracker wasn't sure what he saw on the woman's face: Longing?  Sadness?  Defeat?  All of them.

Chris saw Tanner's focused gaze and turned to look back at them as well.  "Sarah," he moaned.

"Ya gotta pick, Chris," Vin said softly.  "Them 'r me, live 'r die."  And with that Tanner turned and started shuffling back down the trail, his body screaming in pain every time he took a step.

Chris looked from Vin's retreating form to his family and back again.  He knew what Tanner had told him was true; he'd known it all along, but he missed them so much. . . .

He looked back to the tracker, who was getting farther and farther away.

Vin was his friend, and something more – something he didn't really understand.  And he had other friends now, too – men he called his family.  And it was true.  They _were_ his family . . . And they were alive . . . And real.

Vin was alive; he was real.  And he's said he needed him.  He didn't want to lose Vin – not now, not ever.

In the space of an eye-blink the house and the rest of the ranch were gone, the gunslinger left standing in what looked to him like a thick, clinging ground fog.  "Vin!" he called, suddenly very afraid.  If he got lost now, he knew he'd die, whether or not he wanted to.

"This way, Chris," he heard the tracker call.  "Jist follow me . . . This way."

"Vin!" he cried again, feeling the first swell of true panic pound through him.  He darted into the fog, running blindly forward.  "Vin, I can't see you!  Where are you?"

"This way, pard."

Larabee stumbled to a stop, bent over, hands on his thighs, gulping for air.  "Damn it, Vin, don't leave me here!  Vin!"

Chris jumped and shied away when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, but then he saw Vin standing beside him and he sagged with relief.  "Take me back," he told the tracker.  "Please."

Vin's blue eyes were full of emotion as he nodded.  "'S this way, partner."

"You sure?" Larabee asked him, reaching out to grab hold of the tracker's arm.

"Nope," Tanner replied, adding a moment later, "Jist didn't want ya t' worry none."

Chris laughed nervously, then looked at the tracker again.  He looked terrible.  Had he done that to the man?  My God.  "Vin," he breathed, his voice full of anguish.

"'S all right," Tanner said.

"But–"

"Important thing's yer comin' with me.  The rest'll keep."  Vin reached out, his fingers curling into the fabric of Larabee's shirt, but  he could see the man's skin under his touch.  "I cain't lose ya, Chris.  I love ya too much."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Thursday, 3 p.m.**

In the teepee, Vin groaned and tried to sit up, but his muscles were too weak and he hurt too much to accomplish the feat.  But Ko-je was there, helping him, the chief's arm strong under the tracker's trembling shoulders as he lifted him up off the ground as Tanner arched.

"Chris?" Vin asked thickly, realizing for the first time just how much pain he was really in – all over.

"He has returned," the old chief said.  "Now, you must rest."

Nachise pressed another small bowl into Vin's hand and guided it to the tracker's mouth so Tanner could drink.

Hoping this wouldn't taste as bad as the stuff in the first bowl, Vin took a hesitant sip, surprised to find it was only water.  He gulped down the remainder, doing the same to a second, and then a third bowl before his eyes dropped closed and he was sound asleep, his last thoughts of Chris, who he knew was lying close by.  He wanted to reach out and touch the man, but the simple act was far beyond his ability.

Ko-je watched Tanner slip into sleep and nodded.  It was done, and now the two men's souls were joined.  He wondered if either of them had any idea what that meant.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Friday, 8 a.m.**

The following morning Vin shuffled stiffly out to join Nathan and Josiah at the wagon.  Chris was already lying in the bed, and the healer's horse was saddled, but its reins were tied to the back of the wagon.

"How's he doin'?" the tracker managed to ask, even his voicebox hurting when he used it.

"Good," Nathan replied with an understanding smile.  "He was awake a while ago, even managed t' take a few swallows of broth.  Think he's gonna be fine now – if he rests."

"You'll see that he does," Vin whispered as he nodded, accepting Peso's reins from Josiah.

"You, however, look terrible, brother."

"Jist a little achy down in m' bones," Tanner replied, climbing sluggishly into the saddle with a grunt.

"You wanna ride in the wagon?" Nathan asked him, brow furrowing with concern.

Vin shook his head.  "'M hopin' the ride'll shake the knots out."

"All right," the healer said, "but if you change yo'r mind, I'll trade places with you."

Vin nodded his thanks, then turned in his saddle to glance over to where Ko-je and Nachise stood, watching them.  "A'ho," he called weakly to them.

"K'ta," the old chief responded with a smile.  The tracker might as well be one of them; maybe their spirits had decided he was.  He would have to ask them.

"K'ta," Vin replied.  "Tell Chanu 'm sorry he weren't here.  I'll stop by an' see him soon."

Ko-je nodded.  When the young man returned, he would have to give him a Jacrilla name.  He had earned it.  "I will tell him.  He will be happy to see you again."

And then the peacekeepers were on their way back to Four Corners, slowly and carefully, so they didn't jar Larabee too much.

Nathan and Josiah carried on a steady, quiet conversation while Vin rode a little ways off from the wagon so he could keep an eye on the terrain, just in case there was any trouble headed their way.  But his mind wandered, memories slowly resolving in his mind – Chris at his old homestead . . . Sarah and Adam . . . the beating . . . the look on Larabee's face as his world had crumbled around him for a second time.  There had been such pain in that look.  Had he done the right thing?

He didn't blame Chris at all for the beating.  Hell, he figured he deserved it.  If it had been him, back with his lost family, he would have done the same if Chris had come to take him away.

Or would he?

Tanner sighed.  No, he probably wouldn't; his feelings for Larabee ran too deep.  But he could still understand why Chris had.  He loved his wife and son, it made sense he wanted to return to them, be with them, stay with them.

At least it had worked out . . . Or maybe it had just been a dream and Chris had awakened on his own like Nathan had hoped he would.  Vin didn't know, and he didn't really care.  Chris was back with them and that was the important thing.

He just wished he could pack his feelings for Chris away, somewhere deep in his heart where they wouldn't get him into any trouble.

"Vin, yo' feelin' all right?" Nathan asked him.

"Yeah, 'm fine," Tanner replied, but he knew that was a lie.  He'd told Larabee how he felt, and now he was going to have to suffer the consequences. He could only hope the man didn't remember what'd he said, but somehow he doubted he was going to get that lucky.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Friday 12 p.m.**

They were almost home and the tracker knew he, for one, would be very glad to get back to town.  He still ached terribly, and his head throbbed worse than any hangover he could ever remember having.

Several birds took sudden flight from a small stand of mesquite trees and Vin pulled Peso up for a closer look.  The wagon continued to rattle down the trail.

A moment later, a single gunshot pierced the hot desert air and Vin felt a fire burst to life in his side.  He leaned over Peso's neck and kicked the horse into a hard gallop, chasing after the others.

Josiah already had the mules moving as fast as they could go when the tracker reached the fleeing wagon.  He raced up alongside the conveyance, yelling to the two men, "Get Chris back t' town!  I'll draw 'em away from ya!"

As Peso turned away from the wagon, Nathan saw the bloodstain on Tanner's shirt.  "Vin!" he called, but it was already too late, the sharpshooter was headed back toward the hill where the first shot had come from, more gunfire ringing out in the quiet air.  "Damn fool's gonna get himself killed!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Friday 1 p.m.**

The team of tired mules pulled the wagon into Four Corners, their sides heaving and their nostrils flared.  Buck and JD burst out of the sheriff's office and rushed over as Josiah drew the team up with a shouted "Whoa!"

"What's wrong?" Wilmington demanded, hand reaching for the butt of his gun.

"Somebody started shootin' at us just shy of the Hawke farm.  Vin drew 'em off," Nathan explained, climbing down.

"Chris?" Buck asked the healer.

"He's fine," Josiah assured him, climbing down as well.

"Can't say the same 'bout Vin," Nathan said.  "He's got hisself shot.  I saw the blood on his shirt as he rode off."

Buck and JD turned and ran for the livery, Wilmington calling back over his shoulder, "Tell Ezra t' meet us on the road to the Hawke place!"

"Will do," Josiah called.

Nathan climbed into the bed of the wagon and knelt down beside Larabee.  "Chris?  Can you hear me?  Wake up, Chris."

The blond opened his eyes and blinked.  "Vin?"

"Come on, we need to get you up into the clinic."

"Where's Vin?" Larabee demanded, a cold chill in his gut telling him the man was in trouble.

Nathan sighed heavily.  "Ain't sure.  Someone started shootin' at us.  He went to draw 'em off so we could get you back to town.  Buck and JD are goin' after him.  Ezra too."

"Vin. . ." Chris sighed, slipping away again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Friday, 6 p.m.**

In the clinic, Chris sat propped up in the bed, finishing a second bowl of the potato soup Inez had made especially for him.  It was very good, and he was incredibly hungry, so he'd finished the first helping and asked for a second.  Nathan had been only too happy to indulge him, and quickly brought him the second bowl, which he had almost finished as well.

When he heard footsteps on the stairs he paused and looked up, hoping it was Vin.  The tracker still hadn't made it back to town, and the other peacekeepers, except the healer, were out searching for him.

And it was Nathan who stepped inside to join him.

"Any word?" Larabee asked him.

The healer shook his head.  "Buck and JD jus' got back.  They found a body on the far side of Hawke's Hill – last of the men who tried t' rob the bank.  They're headin' back out t' look some mo' before it gets too dark."

Chris leaned back, his appetite suddenly gone.  Where the hell was Vin?  It sounded like he'd gotten the man who'd shot him, so why hadn't he come back?  Could there be other outlaws tracking Tanner?  Did they know he was wanted?  Had they captured him?  Was he hurt too badly to make it back?

"Ezra and Josiah are still out lookin' too," Nathan added, seeing the worried expression on Larabee's face.  "Don't you worry none, they'll find him."

Chris started to toss back the light blanket that covered his legs, but Jackson stopped him.  "You ain't goin' nowhere, Chris."

The gunslinger looked up at the man, anger flaring in his green eyes, but Nathan met the man's gaze and held it, saying, "Vin'll have my hide if I let you outta this bed befo' you're good an' ready."

"He might need–"

"They'll find him," Nathan assured the gunslinger again.

Larabee wanted to argue, but he knew the healer was right.  Besides, he was still too weak to be any real help on a search; they would just end up having to drag him back to town when he passed out on the trail if he tried.

"You can go," he told Nathan with a sigh.

The healer gave him a dubious look.

"I'll stay here."  When Chris got an even more doubtful expression in reply, he growled, "I'll stay put, damn it.  Go find Vin."

Nathan nodded.  "Do my best."

Chris watched the man leave, then sighed and started on his soup again.  They _had_ to find him.  Tanner had to be all right.  He had some questions he needed to ask Vin and he couldn't do that if the tracker was dead.  _You damn well better not be dead_ , he silently told Vin.  _I want to know what the hell you were talking about out there . . . wherever the hell that was_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Saturday 4 p.m.**

The following afternoon, the five peacekeepers rode back into town, covered with dust and looking more than a little trail-weary.  Chris was sitting on a chair just outside the saloon, Inez having taken over the mother hen duties for Nathan.

Larabee stood as they stopped and dismounted in front of the building.  "Vin?" he asked the other men.

Buck stepped up, his gaze sweeping over the gunslinger and, for a moment, his lips curled up into a small smile as relief washed through him, but then the expression faded and his gaze dropped back to the boardwalk.  "No sign, Chris.  He just don't want t' be found right now.  Crossed trails with a couple of the ones doggin' him, though – buried both of 'em, too.  Can't be more 'n one or two of 'em left out there."

Chris felt his jaw twitch, but he reined in his anger.  If Vin Tanner didn't want to be found, none of them were going to find him no matter how hard they looked.  But why?  And why was the remainder of the Palmer Gang still dogging him?  Had they recognized Vin?  Or was it just revenge?

"All we can do now is wait," Buck told him softly.  "He'll come home as soon as it's safe."

"Mr. Tanner is exceedingly resourceful," Ezra offered hopefully.  "I'm sure he will outwit his pursuers and return presently."

Chris nodded, silently praying the gambler was right.  But the worry that had settled into his gut told him different.  Vin was in trouble, he knew that was surely as he knew the sun would set and rise again in the morning.  But there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

 _Come on, Vin_ , he told the missing man, _you told me you needed me to come back.  Now I'm asking you, come home, Vin.  Please_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Sunday, 1 p.m.**

A thunderstorm raged in the afternoon sky, moving steadily across the desert on a hard-driving wind until it finally arrived in Four Corners.  A drenching rain fell in sheet-like torrents, forcing everyone inside.  The peacekeepers, except for Chris, retreated to the saloon, a depressed silence falling among them.  Larabee, however, sat in his chair under the overhang, watching the empty street, waiting for Vin Tanner to return.

"Nathan!" the gunslinger bellowed.

Chris's frantic exclamation brought all five men to their feet and they rushed out onto the boardwalk.  Through the heavily falling rain they could see a lone rider approaching, but the downpour made it impossible to see exactly who it was.  What they could see, however, was that the man was hunched forward over his horse's neck in an unnatural manner.

"It's Vin," Larabee said softly, more to himself than the others.

"What?" Buck asked him.

Chris pushed to his feet, calling, "Vin!" and started out into the rain, but Nathan reached out and grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"No, Chris," the healer said.

Josiah and Buck charged out into the downpour, sloshing through the muddy water running down the street and turning it into a shallow river.

When they neared the horse, both men recognized Peso.  The tracker was drooped over the gelding's withers, his arms hanging down limply on either side of the animal's neck.

"Vin?  Vin," Josiah called softly as he carefully reached for the man.  "It's Vin!" he bellowed back to the others.  "He's hurt!"

The tracker's head came up as soon as he was touched, his glazed blue eyes meeting the former preacher's for a brief moment.  But as soon as Tanner recognized the man, his eyes rolled up and he started to slide from the gelding's back.

Buck grabbed Peso's bridle to keep the gelding from spooking and Josiah caught the tracker, cradling him in his arms as if he were no more than a child.  He turned and started straight for the clinic.

The others, waiting on the boardwalk, hurried after Josiah, JD veering off to help Buck see to the tracker's horse.

 _Oh God_ , Chris thought, his heart beginning to ache.  _He has to be all right.  He has to be_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In the clinic, Vin roused enough to stand up while Nathan and Josiah worked quickly to strip off his hide coat and shirt.  The tracker's boots, pants, and long johns quickly followed.  Once he was undressed, they carefully toweled him dry and laid him on the bed, the healer quickly covering Tanner with several blankets.

A few moments later, the tracker's teeth started to chatter, his body shaking uncontrollably even under the covers and in the too-hot room.  He moaned softly, but didn't actually wake up.

"Josiah, take hold 'a his legs," Nathan instructed, folding back the blankets so he could get to the angry red gouge in the man's side.  "Ezra, you sit up here by his head, keep him from movin' 'round too much."

His instructions were immediately carried out by the two peacekeepers.

Nathan turned from the bed to gather what he needed, then paused on his way back to Vin in order to get Chris into a chair.  That done, he returned to Tanner's side.

Buck and JD stepped inside, taking up positions behind Chris so they would be out of the way, but ready to help if called.  Ezra saw them and quickly tossed two towels over so they could dry their faces and pat the worst of the rainwater off their dripping clothes.

Wilmington reached out and rested his hand on Chris's shoulder, and the gunslinger leaned back into the comforting presence of his oldest friend, grateful for the support; Larabee was scared.  The same feelings of dread and loss that had assailed him when he'd ridden up to the still-smoking ruins of his homestead now wrapped themselves around his heart and wormed their way through his guts, making him slightly sick to his stomach.  Vin was in trouble, and it might be too late for Nathan to help him.

"Looks like it's just a graze," Nathan announced after he'd finally gotten the wound cleaned – a task he could only accomplish after the tracker's chills had subsided enough he wasn't shaking so badly.  "Cracked a rib, too, but don't think it's broke."

"Will he be all right?" JD nervously asked the healer.

"Hope so . . . lost some blood, an' it looks like he's been soaked to the skin fo' a while.  If he don't catch a fever, an' infection don't set in worse, I think he'll be all right."

But each man there knew either possibility was a real threat hanging over the injured tracker's head.

"I'm gonna make up a poultice, try an' pull some of that infection out," Nathan said.  "Someone needs to stay with Vin while I go get what I need."

"I'll stay," Chris said, his voice tight and low.

"You need t' rest, Chris," the healer replied pointedly.

"I'll stay with Vin," Josiah offered.

Nathan nodded.  "The rest o' you can come with me.  We can find the plants I need quicker if we're all lookin'."  He led the way out, Buck, JD, and Ezra trailing behind him.

Outside, the rain had fallen off to a light sprinkle, although thunder and lightning still filled the sky.  Nathan showed them what he needed and they each started out to find as much of it as they could.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  ~ * ~ *

 

In the silence that fell inside the clinic, Josiah prepared a bowl of water and set it on the table next to Vin's bed.  Then he fetched several towels, which he stacked next to the bowl.

Vin started to shiver under the blankets again and Chris sat forward in his chair, saying, "Damn.  He's still cold."

Josiah added the last of the spare blankets to the others already covering the younger man, then walked over and started a small fire in the potbelly stove, which sat close to the bed.  It would turn the clinic into something close to a sweat lodge, but until Vin was warmed up, he knew he and Larabee could take it.

Chris stood, his legs a little unsteady under him, and dragged his chair over closer to the bed before he sat down again.  Josiah watched him, a small smile on his face.

"What is it, preacher?" Chris asked him, feeling guilty, but not at all sure he wanted to explain why to the older man.

"Nothing, really . . . Well, I was remembering a few days ago, when it was _you_ lying in this bed.  Vin sat in that very spot while he was helpin' Nathan tend to you.  Day and night, right there . . . Had just about the same expression on his face, too."

Chris smiled halfheartedly as he looked down at the younger man.  "He's a good friend," he said.  _And more, but damned if I understand it_.

"Oh, he's more than that, Chris," Josiah told him.  "Buck is a good friend.  Nathan and I are your friends.  But Vin. . ."  He shook his head.  "Vin is more like . . . a brother?"

Chris continued to stare at the tracker as he nodded and said, "Guess he is at that."  _A brother of the heart, not the blood . . . he's a part of my heart, my soul.  I can feel it_.  Then the gunslinger looked up, meeting Josiah's steady gaze.  "What happened back at the reservation?"

"Don't rightly know," the former priest said.

"Vin said you thought he could bring me back, and the old chief said Vin brought me back, but from where I couldn't tell ya."

Sanchez chuckled softly.  "It's true I thought Vin might be able to help you," he admitted.  "See, I saw a healin' once, in a Cherokee village.  I thought Vin might be able to do for you what I saw a man's brother do for him."

"Which was?"

The older man shrugged.  "You'd have to tell me; I wasn't there.  I just saw a man who'd decided to die come back to the world of the living, and I think maybe I saw the same thing happen with you."

Chris looked back down at Vin, who had finally quieted and was now sleeping.  "Don't know how it happened, but guess you could say Vin reminded me what the truth really was."

"That your wife and boy are dead," Josiah stated.

Chris nodded.  "And that I have friends here . . . family."

The former preacher nodded sagely.  "None of us are alone now, that's true . . . unless we decide we want to be."

Larabee looked up again and the anguish in his eyes took the former preacher by surprise.  Something important had happened to the two men in whatever world they had visited.

"He was trying to save my life and I–"  Chris broke off and shook his head, looking angry and disgusted with himself.

"What is it, Chris?"

The gunslinger hesitated a moment, but then forced himself to say, "I attacked him, Josiah . . . I beat him damn-near senseless – the man who was trying to save my life.  What kind of a friend or a brother does that make me?"

Josiah smiled sadly.  "You didn't hurt him, Chris.  Oh, maybe in your mind you did, but that was just your ghosts, expending their anger."

Chris shook his head.  "Felt real enough."  He could remember all too clearly what he'd done to Tanner.

"I'm sure it did."

"And even after that he still came back for me," Larabee said, his voice tight and overly controlled.  "Hell, even Buck had the good sense to ride out when I pulled the same thing on him a few months after Sarah and Adam died."

"It's what a brother would do," Josiah replied softly.

Chris nodded his agreement and started to say something more, but the door opened, the others filing back inside.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Monday, 10 a.m.**

Chris watched while Nathan and Josiah worked together to change the damp towels draped over Vin's body, trying to cool the tracker's climbing fever.  Ezra and JD stood side by side at the work table, preparing more of the herbs they had picked the day before for a fresh poultice.  And Buck was across the street, borrowing fresh bed linens from one of his many "lady friends."

Larabee felt helpless and frustrated.  He wanted to help them, but he was still weak and tired too quickly to be much use in the efforts.  Slumping back against his chair, he sighed and waited as hours passed, Vin caught in the tight grip of a fever that left him restless and hurting.  The damp towels helped some, but they couldn't break the fiery grip of the fever.  Nathan tried everything he knew, but eventually the healer acknowledged that it was now Vin's fight.

Sitting alone with the tracker, Chris reached out and squeezed the man's shoulder, saying, "You can't save my life and then die, you hear me?  You damn well better beat this, or so help me, Vin, I'll find you in Hell and show you what a real beating's like."

His gaze rose and he looked out at the sky through the window.  _I can't lose him, too,_ he prayed _.  Please_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  ~ * ~ *

**Monday, 8 p.m.**

Vin awoke slowly, floating back to consciousness on the trail of a soft, familiar voice that twined through his thoughts.  As he began to realize where he was, he recognized the voice as well: Chris.  He moaned softly and tried to force his eyes open.

"Vin?"

A hand closed on his shoulder, the touch cool on his warm skin, gentle and caring.  He tried again to open his eyes, this time managing to lift his lids just far enough to see the man who was sitting at his bedside, looking haggard and worried.

Relief and affection rushed though the tracker's soul.  It had worked.  Chris was awake.  For a brief moment he'd been sure the whole ordeal had been some crazy dream brought on by the fever that still held him in its grip, a grip that was looser now, but still strong.

"Welcome back, Cowboy," Vin managed to say before the dryness in his throat stalled his words and made him cough.

A moment later Chris was holding a cup to his lips, his hand supporting the tracker's head so Vin could drink comfortably.

Tanner gulped the cool liquid, savoring the clean, sweet taste.  But then the cup was gone and he grunted his frustration over the loss.

"Nathan says you have to go slow on the water or it'll sour your stomach," Chris told him, easing Vin's head back down onto the pillow.  "Damn, Tanner, you had us worried," he added.  "Why didn't you come back to town sooner?"

Vin smiled tiredly.  "Had t' wait fer the wash t' quit runnin'."

Chris's eyes widened.  "You got out that far?"

"Didn't think so, but m' mind was none too clear."  He took a shaky breath and let it out slowly, feeling the sharp pinch in his side.  "How're ya doin'?"

Larabee looked slightly chagrined as he replied, "Pretty good.  Head still hurts some, and I get tired just walkin' across the damn room, but Nathan says I'll live."

"Guess we both will."

"You sure as hell better," the gunslinger warned sternly.  "They've been workin' on you for over a day now."

The corners of Vin lips curled up slightly.  "Wouldn't want t' disappoint 'em," he slurred, his eyes dropping closed again.  "Any of 'em. . . "  And a moment later he was sleeping again.

The tracker's final words sent a rush of emotion racing through Larabee's chest, although he wasn't sure why or what, exactly, it was he was feeling.  All he did know was that Tanner was going to live and, for now, that was enough.

"Just rest easy, Vin," Chris said softly, pulling up the man's blanket.  "I'll be here.  And when you're ready, we'll talk."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  ~ * ~ *

**Tuesday, 9 a.m.**

When Vin awoke the next time he was relieved to discover he felt much better.  He could tell the fever had broken some time earlier, and his stomach rumbled like distant thunder, reminding him it had been too long since his last meal.

"Vin, you awake?"

The tracker turned his head to meet Nathan's concerned gaze.  "'M now, Doc."

The healer grinned.  "And already startin' t' sound more like the Vin Tanner I know," he said.  "Guess I should be glad."

Vin glanced around the clinic.  "Where's Chris?"

"I finally got him to go get some real sleep after yo'r fever broke last night, but he'll probably be along shortly.  Why don't you try an' get some mo' sleep while I go fetch something fo' ya t' eat."

Vin nodded, closing his eyes.  He immediately felt the tug of healing slumber and surrendered to the welcome blackness.  But then he felt another tug and he moaned softly, trying to force his eyes open again, but it was already too late.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When awareness returned, Tanner was standing back at the Larabee ranch where he had found Chris.  He glanced around, confused, and more than a little scared.  Not sure what to expect, he walked the short distance to the house and checked inside, finding it empty.  He walked out into the yard and glanced around, finally spotting Chris, who was kneeling near the large tree growing next to the barn.  Walking over to join him, he saw the two graves.

"I wondered if you might not turn up here," Chris said quietly without looking up.

"I sure as hell didn't.  Didn't try 'r expect to," the tracker admitted.  "Ya bring me here?"

Chris stood and turned to meet Vin's concerned gaze.  "I don't know . . . Like you said, I didn't try, but here we are . . . and I did want– _need_ to apologize."

Tanner looked even more confused.  "Fer what?"

"For what happened here," Larabee replied, gesturing to the space beneath the tree.  "I never meant to hurt you, Vin.  God knows I didn't."

Tanner's head cocked slightly to the side.  "Ya didn't hurt me, Cowboy."

"Like hell I didn't.  I pounded you into the ground," Chris argued, gesturing at the earth on which they were standing and adding, "Right here."

"Yeah, here," the tracker repeated as he nodded.  "But this ain't. . ."  He trailed off and shrugged.  "Hell, even if ya did, I'd say ya had yer reasons.  Don't hold it ag'in ya, if that's what yer worried 'bout."

Larabee didn't know what to say to that.  Finally, he shook his head, a small smile beginning to spread across his face.

"Somethin' funny?" Vin asked him, still confused.

Chris shook his head, but said, "Josiah was right."

Vin's brow furrowed.  "J'siah?  'Bout what?"

"You're not my friend, Vin Tanner."

The tracker looked hurt and he took a step back like the words had struck him hard in the chest.  "Hell, Chris, I woulda said I's yer friend.  Consider ya m' friend."

The gunslinger shook his head again, his grin getting bigger.  "No, a friend would've kicked my tail for what I done, but family . . . well, family's another matter altogether."

Vin's cheeks turned a rosy pink and he dipped his head, hiding under the brim of his hat.  "Ya think on me like family?" he asked, his voice unusually shy, which only served to broaden Larabee's smile.

"Guess I do at that."

The tracker's head came up a little, blue eyes meeting Chris's green.  "Reckon I feel the same 'bout you."

Chris took a step closer, his hand held out.  Vin looked at it for a moment, then took the proffered hand in a firm grip.  When he did, Larabee tugged him into a heartfelt hug, stepping back when feelings he hadn't felt for nearly three years flared in his heart, and his groin, both startling the gunman.

"So," Vin said, his eyes twinkling, "how do we get back this time, Cowboy?"

"Hell, your guess is as good as mine," Chris replied.

Vin shrugged and started walking, the gunslinger falling into step at his side, Chris's mind racing with the truths he'd discovered about himself.  He loved Tanner.  Loved him like he should have loved Mary Travis, but how was that possible?  He couldn't imagine that Vin could feel the same way about him, but he wasn't sure.  Hadn't Vin said he loved him?  He couldn't be sure unless he asked him, and just how the hell was he supposed to do that?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Tuesday, 1 p.m.**

Chris walked into the clinic to find Vin lying in the bed, wide-awake and looking restless.  He knew _exactly_ how the tracker felt.

"How're you feelin'?" he asked Tanner.

"Tired," Vin admitted, "but I'll live."

"Nathan tell you that?"

"Why?" Tanner asked, looking a little annoyed.

"Just wanted to be sure it came from a reputable source."

Vin glowered at him and Chris grinned, his stomach developing a bad case of the flutters.  "You look better than you did the last time I saw ya."

The tracker nodded.  "Fever's broke, but damned if I ain't weak as a newborn calf.  Cain't even keep m' legs under me."

"Give it a day or two," Chris told him, his tone making it all too clear he understood exactly what the tracker was talking about.  He walked over to the bedside chair and sat down.  "Brought somethin' that might you help pass the time," he added, holding up a book.

Vin glanced at it, then at Chris, looking even more uncomfortable than before.  "Sounds good . . . jist one problem."

"What's that?" Chris asked him.

"Cain't read," Vin admitted, glancing away with the admission, embarrassment making his cheeks burn with shame.

"Didn't figure you could," Larabee said easily.

Vin looked back, blue eyes flashing with challenge.

"Haven't heard about many schools out among the Indians," Chris added to explain.

Vin glanced away again, realizing that there was no judgment in Larabee's eyes, or in his tone.

"I was plannin' to read it to you.  I think you might like it.  It's called _Last of the Mohicans,_ and it's about a tracker."

Vin settled back against his pillows, a smile playing on his lips.  "Sure as hell beats layin' here countin' the nails."

Chris smiled back and opened the book.  He began to read, but he made a point to look up over the book from time to time, enjoying the expression on Tanner's face as he listened to the unfolding story.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Wednesday, 8 a.m.**

While the six peacekeepers finished the last of their breakfasts, Inez made up a seventh plate for Nathan to take back to Vin, who was still confined to his bed – a situation the healer knew wasn't going to last much longer.

As the men drifted off to their own tasks and diversions, Buck caught Chris on his way back to the clinic and, with an hand on the gunslinger's back, guided him across the street and over to the sheriff's office.

JD was nowhere to be found when they stepped inside and Buck closed the door behind them.

"Somethin' on your mind, stud?" Chris asked the ladies' man, a little annoyed about being kept away from the clinic.  He had a book to finish for Vin, and the tracker was looking forward to it as much as he was.

Wilmington nodded.  "Yes, sir, there is."

Chris regarded his long-time friend for a moment, then walked over and sat down.  Buck obviously had something he needed to say.  "You gonna tell me what it's about?"

Buck pulled his hat off and paced across the floor, turned, and paced back to the closed door again, then stopped and turned to face Larabee.  "Chris, we've known each other a long time. . . ."

"Yep," Larabee agreed.  "What's chewing on ya, Buck?"

The big ladies' man slapped his hat against his leg.  "What was you thinkin'?" he demanded loudly.  "Steppin' out there like that?  Almost gettin' yourself killed!"

Chris leaned back and regarded the man for a moment, then said, "Some things are worth riskin' your life for, Buck, friends and family among 'em."

Wilmington stopped, staring at his friend.  He blinked, then leaned back against the desk and folded his arms over his chest.  "Well, what do ya know . . . I guess I was wrong."

"About what?" the gunslinger asked, pushing to his feet, amused that he had so easily surprised his oldest friend.

"When you was up in the clinic, hurt, I told Vin that you'd been looking for a reason to live . . . and a reason to die . . . ever since Sarah and Adam were killed.  I thought you'd used me as a reason t' try and get yourself killed, but I was wrong, and I'm glad, Chris, I really am."

"I'm not sure you weren't right," Larabee admitted softly.  "I couldn't honestly tell you what I was thinkin' at the time, just knew that man was drawing a bead on you and I didn't want to see ya killed. . . . I've only got a few friends, can't afford to let any one of 'em get themselves killed for no good reason."

Buck nodded.  "I know just what ya mean, pard," he said, his voice soft but intense.  A smile spread across his handsome face.  "I've gotta ask ya, Chris . . . What the hell happened out on that reservation?"

Chris shook his head.  "I don't know, Buck . . . I just know Vin found me and brought me back.  I didn't want to go, but . . . I couldn't stay.  Not when I knew he was telling me the truth."

"How?  How'd he do it?"

"He doesn't know either," Larabee told him, hoping that was what Buck was asking, and not what Vin had told him to make him change his mind.  "The Indians got their own ways of doin' things."

"Ah, hell, it don't matter what they done, or how they done it," Buck decided.  "All that does matter is you made it back.  I owe Vin for that, I surely do.  Just promise me you'll be more careful the next time.  I'm getting' too old for shocks like that."

Chris grinned.  "You tellin' me you would've done it any different?"

"Didn't say that," Buck countered, grinning.  "Just said I want you to be more careful is all."

Chris considered that for a moment, then said, "I'll just pretend I'm Buck Wilmington, and do what I think he'd do."

"Ah hell, Chris, now I _know_ you're gonna get yourself killed!" the ladies' man moaned loudly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin looked up to find Josiah carrying in a tray with his breakfast on it.  The older man set it down on the tracker's lap and said, "Eat up, brother.  Inez says there's plenty more where this came from, if you want some more."

Tanner regarded the man for a moment and then asked, "Why didn't Nathan bring it?"

Josiah offered him a shrug and said, "Guess he figured you might not be too happy to see him."

"I feel fine, J'siah," Vin said, his tone pleading for the preacher's understanding, and his support.  "Don't see why I gotta stay a prisoner in this here bed."

Sanchez tried hard not to grin.  "Last day, brother.  Tomorrow your sentence will be commuted and you'll be free once more."

"'Bout damn time," Vin replied with a sigh, then dug into his breakfast, making quick work of it.

And while the tracker scraped the last of his meal off the plate, Josiah leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the sight of a healthy appetite.  "I'd be happy to go over and bring you back some more," he offered.

Vin nodded.  "Could eat it, if'n ya did."  Josiah leaned forward so he could stand, but stopped when Tanner added, "Didn't get the chance t' say m' thanks, J'siah."

"No need, brother," the former preacher replied.  "I'm just glad it worked."

"Me, too."

The big man sat back, his eyes dancing with curiosity.  "How did you do it, Vin?"

The tracker shrugged and shook his head.  "Damn if I know, J'siah.  I's feelin' a mite out 'a sorts when they put me in that teepee with Chris.  Nachise gave me somethin' t' drink.  Worse stuff ya c'n imagine.  Tasted worst 'n Nathan's horse piss he calls tea.  Next thing, 'm at Larabee's ranch."

Josiah leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.  "You actually _saw_ the ranch?"

Vin nodded.  "House, barn, windmill, corral, trees, dirt, everything."

"So, it was real.  It looked real, I mean."

"Looked real as this here room . . . saw Sarah and Adam, too."

Josiah nodded, expression sad.  "Imagined you might."

"Weren't sure he's gonna come back with me at first, but he did."

"Somewhere in his heart, he knew it wasn't real."

"J'siah, Chris woulda died if ya hadn't told me 'bout that Cherokee warrior.  I know that sure as sunrise.  I's seen how he was.  He would've stayed there an' died t' be with 'em again."

"Maybe, maybe not, only God knows for sure."

"Still, I owe ya, an' I won't never ferget it."

Josiah shrugged again.  "I'd say we're even then.  After all, you saved my life when I was ready to give up and hang for those murders I didn't commit."

Vin glanced away, looking embarrassed.  "Jist did what I thought was right is all."

"I know," Josiah replied.  "You're a good man, Vin Tanner," he added, standing and picking up the tray.  "Now, I'll go get that second plate."

As Josiah reached the door Vin said, "You're a good man, too, J'siah, an' a good friend.  I still owe ya."

"Have it your way," the former preacher replied with a small smile.  "You're the most stubborn man I know, beside Chris Larabee, of course."

Vin grinned.  Well, at least he was in good company.  When Josiah was gone, he slumped back against his pillows, fighting the urge to just get up and leave, but he knew better than to do that.  He'd catch hell from all of the others for sure if he did, and then Nathan would have him right back in this damn bed again.

He glanced at the door, wondering if Chris would come today to finish the book.  He hoped so.  The story was good, but what he really enjoyed was just passing the time with Larabee.  It was the best he could hope for, and more than he'd ever expected.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Wednesday, 1 p.m.**

Buck carried Tanner's lunch into the clinic, finding the tracker asleep.  "Vin?" he called softly.  "Vin, ya awake, stud?"

Tanner jerked and opened his eyes.  He blinked owlishly a couple of times and then shook his head sheepishly when he recognized the ladies' man.  "Nathan must be more scared 'a me 'n I thought," he mumbled.

"Huh?" Buck asked, confused.

"Startin' t' think Nathan's scared t' come back t' the clinic."

Buck grinned.  "Naw, he was on his way, but I told him I'd bring this over for ya.  I haven't been able to say my thanks, you doin' what you said you would – bringing Chris back – and I wanted to do it without an audience."

"Ain't no call t' thank me," Vin said, his stomach rumbling when he got a whiff of his lunch; Inez had outdone herself.

Seeing the man's hungry look, Wilmington set the tray down on his lap and dropped into the bedside chair.  He waved at the plate, letting Vin know he should go ahead and eat.  "Yeah, there's a need," he said as the tracker took his first bite, his eyes closing with pleasure as he chewed.  "I owe ya, Vin, more 'n I can really say."

Buck's voice was soft and intense, telling Vin that the ladies' man was being honest and sincere.  He didn't reply, though, enjoying the food too much, and knowing that Wilmington would set his own pace without his help.

"Chris an' me, we've been friends a long, long time.  Hell, we weren't much more 'n kids when we first met, really – 'bout JD's age, I guess. . ."  He paused, looking up to meet Vin's guileless blue eyes.  "I just appreciate you bringin' him back from wherever it was he'd gotten to."

"Don't rightly know how much I did," Vin told him.  "Whatever it might 'a been, 'm glad t' 've done it."

Buck appreciated the tracker's modesty.  He cleared his throat and said, "There was a time Chris an' me, well, we lived in each other's pockets . . . that all changed after Sarah and Adam were killed.  Guess it brought back too many memories for him to be around me much . . . things changed between us."

"Ya looked after 'im," Vin guessed.

"I did," Buck agreed, "best I could, anyway.  But he was so damn stubborn and a man can only get chased off so many times before he stays away."

Vin nodded his understanding.

"Don't get me wrong.  Chris an' me, we're still friends, damned good friends, but, well, I just want you t' know, I'm glad he's got somebody to watch his back, that's all."

"I cain't never take yer place, Bucklin," Vin said, honestly envious of the long friendship the two men had shared.  But he'd never wish it any different than it was, for his sake and Buck's.

The ladies' man grinned.  "Hell, Vin, ain't nobody could do that," he boasted, then turned serious again.  "I hear what you're sayin', I truly do, but Chris an' me, well, we've taken different trails, and that's all right.  I'm just glad he's got you t' ride with him.  So you watch his back for me, all right?"

"I'll do it," Vin agreed, respecting Wilmington's big heart, and his generous soul.  He held out his hand and Buck took it, giving it a heartfelt shake.

"Friends are more precious 'n all the gold in the world," the ladies man said.

Vin nodded.  "That they are.  An' a true friend more rare."

Buck blushed and released the tracker's hand.  "You up for another helpin'?"

"I could eat it," Vin replied hopefully.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Thursday, 11 a.m.**

Chris and Vin sat side by side on the boardwalk, their chairs tilted back, leaning against the wall of the saloon.  Inside the building, the other five peacekeepers were playing a game of poker – Ezra winning, as usual.

In the distance, another thunderstorm flashed and rumbled, the black clouds rolling closer to town, bringing with them a cooling wind that chased away the oppressive late morning heat.

Both men had their hats pulled down low, but they were still able to watch what was going on around them.

"Ya ain't sorry ya came back, are ya?" Vin asked softly, stirring the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"Nope."

A nod.  "That's good."

"Ya sorry you came and got me?" Larabee asked him.

"Nope."

"That's good," Chris echoed.

The comfortable silence returned, both of the men grinning slightly.

"Gonna go in an' join the game?" Vin asked after a few moments.

"Maybe later.  You?"

"Figger I'll wait."

Their grins both grew a little wider.

"To be honest. . ." Chris said, his heart beginning to beat fast as he took a risk he wasn't sure he was ready for.  ". . . Been thinkin' I'd go out to the cabin for a few days."

Vin nodded.  "Do ya some good t' find some quiet."

"Wanna come along?"

Tanner looked up at Chris.  "Ya sure?  Sounds like ya want some time t' yerself."

"Wouldn't be asking if I didn't want ya to come along."

Vin thought for a moment, then nodded.  "I'd like t' go."

"I'll talk to Nathan, see if I can't get us both a pardon."

"Good luck," Tanner muttered, figuring they would both be lucky if they were able to get away in another week or so.

"He'll go along," Chris said.  "If he don't, I'll shoot 'im."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Friday, 9 a.m.**

The two men rode up to Chris's small cabin and dismounted.  After taking care of their horses, they headed inside, Larabee putting some coffee on the stove to boil.  When it was ready, they had it with the biscuits and ham steaks they'd picked up at the restaurant on the way out of town.

They both sat back, full, warm, and content.

After a third cup of coffee, the two men cleaned up the cabin and then headed out to check on the horses and feed them.  That accomplished, they took seats in chairs on the porch and watched the morning pass.

"You up to takin' a ride tomorrow?" Chris asked Tanner.

"Reckon so.  Where to?"

Larabee hesitated a moment, then said, "My old ranch."

The tracker's eyes rounded slightly, but he nodded.

"Thought we'd stop in Eagle Bend, spend the night there, then go out to the ranch."

Tanner nodded, wondering why Chris wanted to return to his old homestead – maybe to prove to himself that it was gone.  But it didn't really matter.  If Chris wanted to go, Vin would go with him.

The rest of the day passed quietly, restfully, the two men playing cards and talking.  Chris even spent a couple of hours reading another book out loud.  When they were hungry, they ate, and when they grew tired, they went to bed.

Larabee insisted that Vin use the small bed so his side wouldn't be sore for the ride the next day.  Tanner started to argue, but then changed his mind, the thought of spending a night in Chris's bed too appealing to pass up.  The gunslinger rolled out both of their bedrolls and slept on the floor near the stove.

Over the course of the night, both men had unsettling dreams full of furtive touches, pent up desires, and a search for someone who could end the want, the need.

They rose with the sun, ate a hearty meal, and then headed out to prepare their horses for the trip.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Saturday, 6 p.m.**

They rode into Eagle Bend and took a room at the hotel.  After they dropped their saddlebags off in their room, they walked across the street to a restaurant for a late dinner, which both men enjoyed.

After the meal, they stopped by the saloon for a drink, avoiding the various card games and opting for a table in a far corner of the room where the shadows hid their faces from the other patrons.

Chris was quieter than usual and Vin didn't press him, content to just spend time in the man's company.  After an hour or so, Larabee rose and Tanner followed him back to the hotel where they climbed into their beds and quickly fell asleep, the long ride having taken more out of both of them than they'd expected.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Sunday 10 a.m.**

They rode slowly into the yard of the old Larabee homestead.  The charred remains of the house looked like the huge, blacked ribcage of some animal, and Vin shivered as a chill snaked its way down his back.  The barn still looked like it was in good shape, but the corral was starting to fall down.

Tanner sat on Peso and watched as Chris dismounted, tied his gelding to a corral rail, and then walked over to the two graves.  The wooden markers were starting to fade and Vin wondered what it would cost to put up stone markers.  He decided he'd ask when he got back to Eagle's Bend, or maybe in Four Corners.  If he had them made there, he could cart them back out here in his wagon.

Larabee knelt down and reached to caress both names with the tips of his fingers.  Tanner turned away, determined to give Chris his privacy to grieve.  He dismounted and walked over to the barn, leaning back again the wall and staring out at the landscape.  It was a nice location, green, creek on the property, and the hills in the distance, catching the clouds.

Vin wasn't sure how much time passed before Chris joined him, and he didn't care.  He was willing to give Larabee whatever time he needed.

"Sorry," the blond said softly.

"Nothin' t' be sorry fer."

"I guess I just needed to see for myself it was gone . . . they were gone."

Tanner nodded.  Then, glancing around, he frowned and asked, "Where's the tree?"

"Tree?" Chris asked him, confused.

"The big tree by the barn," the tracker said.

Chris snorted softly and shook his head, a small, sad smile on his face.  "Always wished there was one," he said.  "Adam wanted a swing . . . I put one up for him in the barn. . ."

Vin nodded, amazed again by how real the dream – or whatever it was – had been.  "Ya ain't alone, Chris," he said softly, seeing the pain in the gunslinger's green eyes.

Larabee nodded, but the pain remained.  "Sometimes I just miss them so much . . . it feels like I'm dyin' . . . but I never do."

"Don't think they'd want ya to, d' ya?"

Chris smiled again, this one a little wider.  "No, I know they wouldn't."

"Will ya tell me 'bout her?" Vin asked him.

Larabee looked up, hope and fear warring in his eyes.

"I'd like t' hear."

Chris led then into the barn, taking a seat on some of the old bales of hay.  Sunlight shone down on them, warming them as he began to speak.  And he kept talking, all day, telling Vin how he'd met Sarah, courted, and married her.  He told the tracker how they had picked out the homestead, and how he'd started raising horses.  He cried a little when he explained how she's broken the news of her pregnancy, his fear as she'd endured the hard hours of labor, and the feeling that had filled his heart as he'd held his infant son for the first time.

Vin laughed when Chris told him about Adam's first words, first steps, and his relationship with his "Uncle Buck."  Tanner asked questions and prodded whenever the man's words began to falter and, when Chris reached the story behind their loss, Vin reached out, resting a hand compassionately on the man's shaking shoulder.

It was that unspoken support that gave Chris the strength he needed to go on, telling Vin about how he and Buck had gone down to Mexico to look at a blooded stallion whose offspring was going to be auctioned, and how they had decided to spend the night there before riding home in the morning.  Buck had met a pretty little Mexican gal and was sparking her, and Chris had wanted an opportunity to look the animals over one last time.

When they had gotten back the next day, it was far too late to do anything.  The house looked like it did now, the ruins smoldering.  He had plunged into the embers, screaming, searching.  He'd found the remains, large and small, unrecognizable.

He and Buck had dug the graves, buried them, and made the markers.  Then they rode into Eagle Bend.  Chris drank a whole bottle down and cried himself to sleep.

"I died a little that day," he said thickly, his voice rough with overuse.  "Guess I've been dyin' a little every day since, too."

Vin gave the man's shoulder a squeeze, saying, "Ain't gonna let ya die, Chris."

Larabee looked up, meeting the man's gaze.  He was surprised by what he saw in the startling blue depths – love.  He shivered.  He pushed to his feet, feeling weak and drained.  "Come on," he husked.  "Let's ride."

They walked to their horses and headed back to town.  Larabee had no appetite, but he forced himself to eat anyway.  Then they headed straight back to the hotel.  Vin ordered a bath sent up and before long a young man had a tub filled with steaming water.

"Ya wanna go first?" Tanner asked his friend.

Chris shook his head.  "No, you go ahead."

Tanner undressed, Chris getting a good look at the man's side, which was still bruised, although the wound was healing rapidly.  Another scar to add to the impressive collection the tracker carried.

Larabee frowned, realizing that each of those scars represented a moment when Vin had been hurting, and probably alone.  Anger flared in the pit of his stomach at the thought.  He didn't want to think about Vin being alone and hurting, but it had clearly happened, many times.  Well, no more.  The tracker had friends now, family.  He wouldn't suffer alone any more.  And neither would Chris.

The realization shook him deep in his soul.  He wasn't alone any more either.  One of the things that had haunted him after Sarah's and Adam's deaths was the fact that he was alone.  Buck had been there, true, but Buck was his friend.  Good friend, best friend, but still, just a friend, and that just wasn't the same as what he'd lost.  It wasn't enough to fill the gaping hole in his heart.  He'd lost his love.

And now he'd found another.  The thought made no sense, but he knew it was true.  Love . . . he had love in his life again.

His gaze went to the tracker, who was rinsing the soap out of his shoulder-length hair.  Did he love Vin?  Like he had Sarah?

The answer was obvious and it filled his chest with a warmth he'd never expected to feel again.  Yes.  He loved Vin – had for a long time, but he hadn't understood it, hadn't recognized it for what it was.  And now that he _did_ understand it, what the hell did he _do_ about it?

When Vin stood and reached for one of the towels that had been left for them, Chris's breath caught in his chest.  Even dripping wet, Vin Tanner was damned easy on the eyes – all compact muscle and untamed grace.  A light dusting of hair on the man's chest was thicker on his lower belly, like an arrow aimed straight at the tracker's groin.

Larabee swallowed hard as his gaze was drawn to Vin's manhood, dripping water as the tracker dried his hair.  And then the man was climbing out and drying the rest of his body.

"Ya gonna get in?" Tanner asked him.

"Huh?" he replied, then shook his head and stood, undressing quickly and taking Vin's place in the tub.  The water was still wonderfully warm and he quickly soaped his body and his hair.  He rinsed and only then leaned back to enjoy the effect the warm water had on his muscles.

Vin pulled on his long johns and lay down on his bed, watching the gunslinger.  Chris met the tracker's eyes, wishing he could read what he was seeing there.  But Chris was afraid that anything he thought he saw was just what he wanted to see.  And what he wanted to see was desire, need, longing.

And he did see those things in the hooded blue eyes – those and more.

Love . . . It all came down to love.  If what he saw in the man's eyes was true, Vin Tanner loved him.  And, when he stopped to think about it, it was the very same look that he'd seen when Vin had arrived in his dream.  The same look that had been in his eyes even after Chris had beat him.  And it was the same look as when the tracker had come back for him in the fog.

He couldn't deny the truth, the sureness of the knowing.  Vin Tanner loved him.  And he loved Vin.

But still, what was he supposed to do about it?  How did he tell the man?  What did he say?

All of a sudden he was scared, nervous, and horny as hell.

Chris stood and grabbed a towel, turning his back to Tanner as he quickly dried himself and dressed in his long johns.  Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he forced himself to look over at Tanner, who was now stretched out on his bed, his arms folded and pillowing his head.  His shirt was unbuttoned, his chest visible.  Taking a deep breath, he said, "I want to thank you for today," in a more or less normal tone of voice and for that he was grateful.

Tanner nodded, but didn't say anything, blue eyes still half-closed.

Chris drew in a deep breath and added, "I learned something today."

"Ya did?"

Larabee nodded.  "Thought I'd never find love in my life again, but now I know that isn't true.  It's in my life, I just didn't see it."

The corners of Vin's mouth curled up.  "Ya got six friends who love ya like family, Cowboy."

Larabee nodded.  "And one who, I think, loves more than that."  He heard Vin's soft gasp and smiled.  "You do, don't you," he said, more statement of fact than a question.

Tanner sat up, holding Chris's gaze.  "Ain't never felt 'bout anybody like I feel 'bout you," he said softly.  The gaze dropped to his bed.  "Don't rightly understand it."

Chris chuckled softly.  "Well, that makes two of us."  And with that he pushed off his bed and crossed over to Tanner's, sitting down on the edge.  "All I do know is  . . . when I'm with you, I can feel again.  I'm not dead inside any more."

Vin looked up, blue eyes locking on green, hunger and yearning flashing in both.  Chris made the first move, reaching out to tenderly touch Vin's face.

The tracker's eyes dropped closed and his body sagged as he moaned so softly Larabee wasn't even sure he'd really heard him, but he saw the tracker's body quaking, and the evidence of his growing arousal.

Not sure what he should do, Larabee leaned forward, his lips capturing Tanner's in a light, tentative kiss.

The feel of Vin's lips on his made Chris's skin tingle, and the light brush of Tanner's whiskers, scratching his chin, seemed to send small lightning bolts of desire straight into his groin.  He leaned forward, forcing Vin down onto his back.

Chris felt Vin's lips open and he dared a first taste of the tracker's mouth.  Instantly, Tanner was probing his mouth, the kiss turning more passionate and more aggressive.

Vin reached up, grabbing Chris's sides and holding on as he squirmed and moaned into the kiss.  Larabee let him up a moment later, asking, "Did I hurt you?"

"Hell no," Tanner panted.

His gaze tracing along Vin's body, Chris grinned when he saw the man's erection tenting the front of his long johns.  Without thinking, he reached down and pressed the turgid penis flat against Tanner's belly.  The tracker's hips pressed up and he arched his back as his eyes closed and he groaned lowly.

"Chris," he breathed.  "Yer hands on me 're like a sunrise on a cold mornin'."

Larabee chuckled softly.  The man really was a poet.  "The sun's comin' up," he half-growled, giving the man a hard squeeze.

"Ah!" Tanner gasped and Chris saw a small wet spot form on the cloth of the tracker's long johns.  He rubbed his thumb over it.  "Shit!" Vin yelped.

Larabee grinned, feeling his own cock fill.  Rolling closer to Tanner, he drove the head of his hard-on against Vin's.  That got the tracker's attention, and the next few minutes passed in a flurry of activity, clothes being removed, bodies being explored with increasingly familiar touches.  And then, with hands on each other's cocks, they began to pull and stroke, squeeze and rub, until their bodies were shaking and they were shooting their seed into each other's hands.

They collapsed back on the bed, panting for breath, their sweating bodies pressed tightly together.  Then they rolled up and stood.  They used the cool water to clean themselves before returning to Chris's bed.

Lying together in the dark, Larabee said, "I don't want this to stop once we get back to Four Corners."

"Don't want it to ever end, Cowboy."

"Good."

And they pressed close together, falling asleep in each other's arms.  Their dreams this time was a sweet kisses and soft touches that left them floating on a cloud of happiness neither man had felt in a long, long time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Monday 4 a.m.**

Chris awoke slowly, his body warm and pressed up tightly against someone . . . _Vin_ , he realized.  The tracker was still sleeping, body spooned against Larabee's.  It felt more comfortable, more right than anything he'd felt in years . . . anything since Sarah.

 _How is that possible?_ he wondered.  How could he love a man like he'd loved her?  He found no answer, but he knew it was true nonetheless.

Reaching out, he ran his hand over Vin's arm and hip.  The tracker made a soft noise and pressed back tighter against Larabee.

          Chris grinned, enjoying the feel of the man's skin under his hand.  As he rubbed over various scars he wished that he could kiss them all away, along with the pain they must have brought the man.  But that was impossible.

          His hand continued to roam over Tanner's skin, sliding over his chest to tease at the twin hard pebbles he found there.  That brought an immediate response: Vin sucked in a sharp breath and his hips jerked back, his ass grinding against Larabee's groin.

          "Easy," Chris whispered, his hands still moving, lower this time, seeking out the tracker's cock.  When he found it, his fingers closed around it and he sighed, feeling whole again for the first time in three years.

          "Chris," Vin whispered.  "Chris . . . ah hell," he moaned as Larabee's hand began to move along his shaft.

          Chris's own cock swelled and he shoved his hips forward, mashing it into the back of Tanner's thighs as he continued to massage the tracker's cock.

          They fell into a rhythm, Vin rocking his hips back as Chris's thrust forward.  Larabee's hand moving up and down Tanner's shaft while his own cock was frictioned against Vin's backside.  Before long, both men were spilling their seed for a second time.

          And, afterwards, they lay in each other's arms, sharing secrets and stories that neither had thought they would ever tell another living soul.

          Breakfast followed, large meals for both of them, and then they were on the trail again, headed for home.

          They reached Chris's cabin just before sunset.  Their horses taken care of, the two men went inside to eat a light meal and then headed off to bed.

This time their loving was slow and careful, full of exploration and attention to the other man's pleasure.  Discovering what made the other feel good was the goal, and both were relentless in their pursuit.  Mouths and hands were their tools, and they employed them in every way they could imagine.

They fell asleep, holding one another, and they dreamed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin walked into the yard of the ranch and glanced around for Chris.  He found the man, leaning against the large tree next to the barn.  Walking over, he smiled and asked, "Why're we here, Chris?"

          "Not sure," the gunslinger said with a shrug.

          Vin moved closer, leaning against the tree next to Chris, looking off in the same direction he was . . . at the house.  But no one stepped out.

          "Yer gonna miss her, Chris," he said softly, knowing what he was looking for now.  "You're always gonna miss her."

          "Like you still miss your ma?"

          Vin nodded.  "Yep.  And m' Kiowa family."

          "You think they're waiting for us?"

          "Like t' think so, yeah."

          "Think they know what we're doing?"

          "Reckon they might."  When Chris didn't reply, Vin added, "Reckon my ma and your Sarah would want us t' be happy.  Are ya happy, Cowboy?"

          Chris hesitated for a moment, then looked at the tracker and nodded.  "Yeah, I am.  Been a long time, but I really am."

          Vin smiled, his cheeks flushing with color.  "Me too."

          "I don't understand this, any of this, but I am happy.  I never thought I'd feel happy again . . . feel love again."

          "Then it's time t' go."

          "Yeah," Chris agreed.  "I guess I just needed to see it one more time . . . so I'll remember.  I want to remember, always."

          "Hell, Chris, I ain't gonna let ya ferget."

          Chris looked back at the tracker.  "You aren't?"

          "Nope," Vin said.  "The folks we love . . . the memories are all we really got once they're gone.  Memories an' what they taught us . . . What did Sarah teach ya, Chris?"

          Larabee thought for a moment, then he said, "She taught me how to laugh . . . what it was to give yourself to someone, completely. . ."

          Vin nodded.  "She taught ya t' be the man I know.  The man I love.  Ain't never gonna let ya ferget the woman who did that."

          "You're right.  She taught me how to love."  He smiled at Tanner.  "And now, I love you."

          "Thanks t' her."

          Chris glanced back at the house, then at the tracker.  "Come on," he said, "let's go home."

          They turned and started away.  And, in the window of the small house, Sarah Larabee watched them go, smiling.

 

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

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